The Dark Lords Strike Back
by claymade
Summary: As Queen Metallia nears release, those who oppose her prepare themselves for battle. Now, between the Dark Kingdom, the Sailor Senshi, and the martial artists the fate of humanity will be decided... and a course will be set to the future.
1. Preparation

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ranma 1/2 or Sailor Moon in any way, shape or form. All associated characters, trademarks, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takahashi and Naoko Takeuchi. I'm just telling some stories about them.

**Author's Note:** This fic is a four-chapter interlude that covers the period between Part One and Part Two of the "Dark Lords of Nerima" series. Since this is a follow-up, it's highly recommended to read the first fic before reading this one, since otherwise it may be a bit perplexing why the characters are in the situations they are.

And now, without further ado...

* * *

**The Dark Lords Strike Back**

Chapter One: Preparation

Beneda kneaded the middle-aged woman's back with her hands, pressing sometimes with her palms, sometimes with her fingers, feeling the injured tendon in the woman's left shoulder respond to her touch. Reaching out with her ki, as her sensei had taught her, the currently-human girl was able to get an even clearer sense of how the damage was responding to her ministrations. She adjusted her movements accordingly, and was rewarded by a sigh from her patient.

It was an exceedingly simple treatment, one she could almost do in her sleep after the long months of intensive teaching and training that Doctor Tofu had guided her through. Still, it was only recently that he had allowed her to begin helping with the clinic patients without his direct supervision.

She was determined not to let him down.

Her hands moved a little lower, while still keeping up their soothing rhythm. Doctor Tofu had taught her that rhythms were very important, both within and without the body. The rhythm of a heartbeat, the rhythm of sleeping and waking, the rhythm of patients entering and leaving the clinic. The rhythm of their very lives.

It was easy to settle into a rhythm, even as utterly bizarre a rhythm as life here in Nerima was prone to be. It was comforting. Reassuring. Sometimes it allowed you to forget about looming, faraway dangers for a little while, finding peace and solace in the moment.

But as she listened to the steady _pok-pok-pok_ of a wooden cane against the floor, coming closer and closer, she knew that even the most comforting of rhythms were eventually disrupted.

Behind her, Beneda heard the door open as the tapping sound entered the treatment room. She did not shift her attention from her patient, nor did the visitor make any move to interrupt. Eventually, though, the session came to an end. The patient thanked Beneda profusely and left, at which point it was only the two of them remaining.

Turning, the sometime-youma saw a familiar, shrunken figure standing perched on her cane. "Elder Soap," she said, bowing respectfully. "Welcome to our clinic."

The Joketsuzoku Elder looked at her with approval, giving her a small nod in return. "That was some competent work you were doing there, child," she said. "Especially after little more than six months of training. It seems the young doctor has found himself a talented pupil indeed..."

"It's really all thanks to him," Beneda assured her. "Doctor Tofu is... amazing. All the things he knows—and how he can make them seem so simple when he explains them! I just follow along with what he shows me."

Soap smiled. "I see..." she said. "At any rate, I apologize for arriving so early. My sister and I finished going over our plan ahead of schedule. And I must admit, I was curious to see how your skills were progressing. I can wait, if you have further patients to see."

Beneda shook her head. "She was the last. I can go at any time. Just... I need to say goodbye to Doctor Tofu first."

"Of course." At Soap's assent, Beneda walked past her out of the treatment room and down the hall toward Doctor Tofu's office. She hesitated briefly just outside the door, smoothing out her light green blouse where it had gotten a little rumpled and tucking an errant strand of silver hair behind one ear. Then she opened the door and walked in.

As she entered, Tofu glanced up from the piles of papers he had spread across his desk. "Ah!" he said. "I see you finished with Mrs. Nakamura."

"Yes, she was very happy with the results," replied the currently-human girl. "Most of her pain seems to be gone. I think she should only need a few more treatments after this one."

"Good, good," said the doctor. "Thank you very much for handling that for me, Beneda. It was a great help."

"You're welcome, sir! I was glad for the chance to put what you taught me to use. And to help you. Any way I can."

Tofu nodded. "Well, given that I can sense a very strong aura just out there, I assume that Soap has come to pick you up?"

"Yes, she has." Beneda studied her feet for a few moments, then spoke again. "I finished packing while I was waiting for Mrs. Nakamura, so I'm all ready. I guess... I guess I'll see you again in about a month's time."

The doctor rose from behind his desk and walked around to where she stood, putting a hand on his student's shoulder. "This is a good thing you're doing," he told her. "I'm proud of how you're willing to help like this."

At his praise, Beneda felt a small surge of heat rise to her cheeks, something her human body tended to do whenever she felt embarrassed despite her best efforts to control it. "I... Thank you, sir," she said at last. "It's just common sense, really. This is something that needs to be done, for all our sakes."

"All the same," was Tofu's reply. "You're still the one who is willing to do it. Be careful over there, my brave pupil. And don't forget to do your exercises."

The sometime-youma nodded feelingly. "Every day," she promised. Then she turned, opening the door to leave.

But she paused in the middle of the action, looking back over her shoulder. "And don't you _dare_ start skipping meals again, just because I'm not here to cook the food and make you take the time to eat!" she warned. "I don't care _how_ long your waiting list gets, I don't want to come back and find out you've been starving yourself!"

Tofu chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll manage. In fact..." Without warning his eyes glazed over slightly, a goofy grin crossing his features. "In fact, just the other day, K... K... Kasumi mentioned that she might be bringing a little something over..." His glasses began to fog up at the mere thought, as he became lost in his own private little euphoria.

Beneda felt like one of her own shuriken had just been twisted into her chest, but she smiled regardless. "That's perfect," she told him, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. "I'm sure it will taste wonderful, whatever it is."

She herself had never managed to get human food much more than "passable".

Turning away, the girl hurried out of the room and back down the hall to where Soap was waiting. "My pack is just downstairs," she said. "Let's go."

Soap raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Of course," she said, hopping up onto her cane and pogoing alongside Beneda.

The two of them retrieved the large backpack containing—hopefully—everything Beneda would need on the trip. With that done, the two of them exited the clinic. "It's always good to get a head start on things," the old master remarked. "At this rate we should be well in time to catch our plane."

Beneda, lost in her own thoughts, nodded absently, and continued walking for a few more steps before what Soap said actually sunk in. "Wait, catch our _what?_"

* * *

Her white-knuckled hands clutching the armrests of her seat in a deathgrip, Beneda stared straight ahead, casting occasional furtive glances out the window as the plane slowly taxied out toward the runway. In the next seat over, Soap watched her with a bemused look. "Honestly, child," she asked. "How did you _think_ we were going to get to China?"

"I don't know!" Beneda whispered back plaintively. "You elders have experience with magic, right? Don't you have some kind of... teleportation spell, or dimensional gateway, or... some _sane_ way of doing this?"

Apart from the past six or so months, Beneda had spent her entire life living in an underground realm of darkness and cramped tunnels. She had, of course, heard stories of these "airplanes": abominations of technology that carried their occupants to and fro at altitudes that boggled her mind, kept aloft by nothing but the strange tricks of physics that the human scientists had learned to bend to their will.

"I can't do this..." she muttered in a slightly unhinged tone of voice. "We need to find another way. I'll walk there. Swim. Ranma told me he'd done it before."

"No time for that, I'm afraid," was Soap's calm reply. "Good training for you though it would be."

"But look, there's so much _metal!_" the sometime-youma hissed, trying to fight down her panic as she pointed out the window. "Metal is _heavy_, and heavy things _fall_ when you throw them up into the air! Please, are you really sure there isn't at least _some_ magic involved in this? _Somewhere?_"

"Not in the slightest," answered Soap. "It's just the air under the wings that will hold us up, as I understand it."

"I'm going to die..." groaned Beneda. "I'm going to die for no reason in a stupid metal box that goes flying around at hundreds of feet above ground!"

"Thousands, actually," Soap corrected in a helpful tone of voice. "At our peak, our altitude should be well over thirty thousand feet."

Beneda's response was to shut her eyes tight and whimper, as the plane began to pick up speed for takeoff.

* * *

Her fears to the contrary, Beneda did arrive safely at their final destination of Xi'ning Airport, where she disembarked the plane with trembling legs. From there it was a series of much calmer automobile rides, leading progressively farther out into wilder areas. Eventually they had to walk, following old, winding trails as they forged higher into the mountains.

As soon as they left civilization behind them, Beneda took some hot water from a thermos she had prepared earlier and resumed her youma form. Even with the increased strength it gave her, however, it was obvious that Soap was slowing her own pace considerably so Beneda could keep up.

The two of them travelled onward for days, Soap eating from the stores they had brought, while allowing her companion to feed off her own mammoth reservoir of life energy. Beneda only needed the tiniest percentage to satisfy her hunger completely, so great was the difference between the auras of a normal human and a trained martial artist, let alone one of the elder's caliber.

They did not talk much, and yet surprisingly Beneda never found it awkward. The hours passed in companionable silence between the ancient woman and the reformed monster, broken only by Soap occasionally pointing out some feature of the surroundings that they were going past, sometimes an obscure landmark, sometimes a useful herb.

One night, as they sat huddled around the warmth of their crackling campfire, Soap noticed that Beneda was bent over a piece of stationery, writing on it. "What's that you're working on?" the elder asked, curious.

Beneda glanced up. "Oh, this is a letter to Ryouga I'm going to mail when I get back," she explained. "It helps us keep in touch a little better, since he can't always find his way to Nerima. He sends them to me whenever he can find a post box, and he picks up my replies whenever he finds his way home."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," agreed Soap. "So what does the young man write to you about?"

"Mostly stories about his latest travels, the sights he sees, the fights he gets into." Then she chuckled. "Oh, and he usually asks me for romantic advice too."

Soap raised her eyebrows a little in surprise. "Really? Don't take this the wrong way, child, but you aren't exactly..."

"...speaking from a human perspective?" finished Beneda. "I know! I tried to tell him that, but he seems to think that just because I'm a female, I'll automatically know how to handle this kind of thing. I try my best to give him answers that make sense, but..." She sighed, looking away sadly. "I don't think I understand how it works in your world at all..."

The elder smiled. "Well, if it's any consolation, in my experience it's mostly guesswork for humans as well."

"I _do_ think he is getting better," continued Beneda. "He seems to have finally settled on Akari, rather than Akane. I mean... I know it's Akane that he's been smitten with ever since I've known him, and I _was_ trying to support him in it, but... I really think Akari is better for him, in the end."

Soap let out a _humph_ at that. "If you say so. I can't claim objectivity, since him wooing away the Tendo girl would be the best for Shampoo's prospects."

The youma's face fell a little. Then she spoke again, wistfully. "It would be nice if everything just... worked out better, wouldn't it? Shampoo wants Ranma, and Mousse wants Shampoo, and Ranma wants Akane, even if he won't admit it, and Ukyo wants Ranma, and Konatsu wants Ukyo. And Doctor Tofu—" Her voice broke off, her expression becoming pained.

"Yes... that is all too often the way of life," agreed the ancient crone. "Sometimes such things don't work out as we would wish. Sometimes they can't. But even so, in the end we live on regardless." A half-smile crossed her small, wrinkled face. "Take it from a woman who has done a great deal of living on in her day."

Beneda nodded. With a stretch and a yawn, Soap stood and walked over toward her tiny bedroll. "Well, don't let it trouble you too much," she said as she walked. "One can never be sure of what the future really holds, after all. Just be sure you get a good night's sleep. We've another full day ahead of us tomorrow."

* * *

It was two days later that they arrived at the Joketsuzoku village.

The only advance warning that they were getting near was when Soap told her to use some cold water to take on her human form. Beneda complied without hesitation, remembering what Joketsuzoku law said regarding her kind—and that not everyone was quite as liberal about such matters as her current travelling companion.

But other than that, it was sudden. One moment they had been hiking their way up a steeply inclined path, with distant mountains towering around them. The next, they crested a rise and saw their destination spread out before their eyes. Beneda took it all in: houses dotted here and there in a seemingly random pattern, interspersed with fields filled with crops.

Many people were tending the fields, mostly men and children. They laughed and sang as they worked, using the tune to keep in time with each other, though to Beneda's eyes it still looked like bewildering chaos.

There was a cry of greeting in Chinese from up above them. Beneda craned her neck, and saw two bow-wielding young women looking down at them from a camouflaged guard post in the trees, one the currently-human girl had completely missed until now. They and Soap went back and forth for about a minute in the same language, and then the elder turned back to Beneda. "Come," she said, her expression suddenly unreadable. "We may begin our task here sooner than expected."

"Sooner than expected?" echoed Beneda, frowning. "You mean... _now?_"

"Perhaps," Soap replied. "It seems that you are not the only guest whose presence graces our village this day."

Her nerves suddenly on edge, Beneda followed the old woman through the fields and toward a cluster of more densely-packed buildings arranged in a circle around an open area. A crowd had gathered there, mostly of women, most of them armed and fingering their weapons as they looked at the three males who stood talking with the shrunken figures of Loofah and the Matriarch.

Least intimidating of the three was the young boy on the right, looking barely older than thirteen, wearing a wolf pelt on his head and wielding a sword strapped across his back. On the left stood a young man whose massive frame dwarfed the first boy's, all corded muscle and sinew. He wore tigerskin around his waist, shoulders and ankles, and he looked around him with his fanged teeth bared.

But Beneda's gaze was drawn to the man standing between them, clad in ornate scale armor, his long, black-and-white hair running down his back. He was not as physically imposing as the one in tigerskin, but there was something in his stance, his bearing, that left no doubt whatsoever in the youma's mind as to who the most dangerous of the three was. He turned to look at her as she approached, and she felt a shiver of fear run up and down her spine.

Memories ran through her mind then, memories of the stories Ranma and Ryouga had told her about one of their most dangerous adventures. She suspected that she knew who these three were.

"Prince Herb!" Soap called out in Japanese as she approached. "It is an honor. Tell me, what brings you to our village at this time?"

The dragon prince did not take his eyes from Beneda's. "I heard that you were bringing your tame monster here from Japan to show it off as evidence of the Dark Kingdom threat," he said. "And yet, of all the tribes you arranged to show it to, you made no contact with the Musk Dynasty. So I took it upon myself to come here instead."

"You've already agreed to aid us in this, beast-man," snapped Loofah, surprising Beneda with the venom in her voice. "That was the price for Cologne giving you the location of the Kettle of Liberation."

Herb made a disdainful wave of his hand. "Of course," he said. "Indeed, kettle or no kettle, the Musk would fight _through_ you, if necessary, for the chance to participate in a battle as glorious as this one. My desire to see this youma has nothing to do with doubting your word or requiring more proof. I was simply... curious."

Beneda licked her lips, then glanced down at Soap, who gave her a small nod. Rummaging through her pack, she found her thermos of hot water, unscrewed the cap, and poured enough over herself to return to her original body. A hiss of shock and a low mutter ran through the crowd of onlookers, but neither the elders nor the Musk gave much of a reaction.

The prince looked at her appraisingly, then walked closer. When he got within arm's length he began to circle her, examining her from every angle. He trailed his fingers along her back as he walked behind her, causing her to shiver.

"Fascinating," he said at last. "Its aura is like nothing I've ever sensed before. Though it doesn't strike me as very intimidating."

"As fighting youma go, I'm among the weakest," admitted Beneda plainly. "There are plenty of elites that could kill me without much trouble at all."

Herb let out a soft noise that might have been a laugh and might have been a snort. "We shall see," he replied. Then he turned back to the Matriarch. "As I said, you can count on the full support of the Musk Dynasty when the time comes. My father will not be able to assist personally due to his old injuries, but he has given me full authority to lead our army into battle in his place."

"Thank you, your highness," said the Matriarch gravely.

The dragon prince then turned to his two followers. "Mint, Lime, let us be on our way," he told them, glancing over to where Loofah was still glaring at him. Beneda wondered what had happened to give the old woman such animosity toward the Musk. "We've done what we came here to do. We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome."

With that, the three of them turned and walked away, the crowd of Joketsuzoku parting before them as they left.

* * *

Beneda spent the night in a guest room that the Joketsuzoku had prepared for her, in a bed that was a _very_ welcome change from sleeping out in the wilderness. She wondered how Ryouga could stand it; just a handful of days had been quite unpleasant for her, and she'd had Soap for company and protection. He had been living that way, alone, for most of his life.

She spent the next day looking around the village, guided by Soap. She received more than a few guarded looks from warrior women who had seen her youma form, some of them downright hostile. Still, the elders had made it abundantly clear that she was under their official protection, and that any actions against her would not be tolerated.

The following morning she and Soap departed again. "Our first stop is mostly a warm-up," the elder explained as they walked out of the village. "Their group is a bit of a rabble, wild and uncontrolled... but they may have their uses, and they have a knack for surviving, if nothing else."

"But why begin with them, if they're not very impressive?" asked Beneda.

"Whenever one is trying to build support, it's usually best to start with those most likely to agree," Soap explained. "Anyone who joins our cause gives it additional momentum, however large or small, which will help in convincing others. We already have the Musk, and that will be _very_ decisive. Now we go to another group who will almost certainly accept. There is only one thing these warriors will need to bring them to our side."

Beneda frowned in thought. "What is that?"

"Payment," was Soap's simple reply.

* * *

Not long after that conversation Soap decided to increase their speed to a fairly rapid clip, prompting Beneda to return to youma form once again. Even so, it was well into the afternoon when they finally arrived. It wasn't so much a village as it was a camp, a ramshackle collection of tents, lean-tos and other relatively temporary structures.

The inhabitants of those structures stared out at the two of them as they approached: large, muscular men, their heads shaved bald, their clothes often little more than rough kilts or loincloths. Their bodies were covered with swirling tattoos that Soap knew to be the badge of membership in this thrown-together army.

As she drew nearer, the elder raised her voice. "Lao Shihong!" she called out. "A customer is requesting your services!"

There was a rustle from inside one of the tents, and a man stepped out, tattooed everywhere like the rest of them, with a pair of large hammers strapped across his back. "So, you did come after all..." he rumbled. "I thought your tribe was too proud to bother with simple mercenaries like us."

"Times change," replied Soap. "We are preparing to fight an enemy unlike anything we have fought before, and we are gathering allies from everywhere we can. The stakes are nothing less than—"

"Yes, yes, we've heard it all from your other messengers," interrupted Lao Shihong. "You know our rates, Joketsuzoku. Spinning tales won't get you a discount."

"Not even with the end of the world facing us?" Soap inquired.

The big man let out a single bark of laughter. "We're sell-swords, old woman. This is our form of honor, however dirty it may seem to someone like you. We fight where we're _paid_ to, regardless of who's doing the paying. We'd have fought for this 'Metallia' creature ourselves if she'd come to us first, and we'd have fought for her loyally. Just as we'll fight loyally for you, until we've fulfilled our contract."

He crossed his arms, looking down at the tiny elder as he towered over her. "So what'll it be? Do we have a deal or don't we? I don't have any desire to stand around bantering all day."

"We have a deal," replied Soap. "Half down, half upon completion of the contract. Your services in the battle against the Dark Kingdom for one month, with first chance to renew at the end."

Lao Shihong nodded, and smiled humorlessly. "A pleasure doing business with you, Joketsuzoku."

* * *

The days passed swiftly for Beneda, as they travelled from one place to another. Their next stop had been the village of a group Soap called the Yakusai Poisoners. The elder there had examined the youma carefully, but had agreed to help without much debate. Beneda got the impression that their village was already on close terms with the Joketsuzoku, and the inspection was more of a formality.

A more serious interview came when they visited a monastery of some human religious order. The head abbot, an old man with a long white beard and a penetrating gaze, had questioned Beneda alone for hours on end. He exacted everything from her without even raising his voice, every detail of her story, every fact she knew about the Dark Kingdom. By the time their interview was over she was trembling uncontrollably, and felt sure that he could read every secret she'd ever had simply by looking at her.

But then, just when she felt she was seconds away from cracking under the pressure, he had smiled at her, given her a simple blessing, and told her to tell Soap that she could count on the support of his order in the coming conflict.

"That was crucial," commented Soap, as the two of them walked away from the old stone building. "Abbot Chang is renowned for his insight; convincing the Monks of the Third Enlightenment that the threat is real will go a long way toward silencing the doubts of the remaining tribes." Then she sighed. "It probably won't help much with our next meeting, however."

"Why not?" asked Beneda. "They don't respect him?"

"Not particularly," Soap responded. "But then, they feel that way concerning most humans..."

* * *

When next the two of them stopped, it was not at any kind of village or settlement, unlike the previous negotiations. In fact, it was little more than a simple clearing. Beneda looked at Soap, confused.

"Just a meeting point," clarified the old master. "Travelling to their home would not have been feasible with all the other stops we need to make. They should be arriving soon."

Contrary to Soap's predictions, however, the other party arrived late. It was almost four hours past the appointed time when the elder glanced upward and remarked. "Ah, at last."

Beneda followed Soap's gaze, to see three winged figures descending from the skies, a woman with a sword at her hip, flanked by two young men, one dark-skinned with a sword, the other light-skinned with a bow. _The Phoenix People!_ she thought, recognizing them instantly from Ryouga's description.

"Lady Kiima," Soap called out to their leader as they landed. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us."

"Make it quick," responded the woman in a bored tone of voice. "I must return to the palace in time for Lord Saffron's feeding. You claimed you had additional evidence to show me? Evidence that might change my mind about this ridiculous military venture?"

"The evidence is right here," said Soap. "Whether it will change your mind or not I cannot say. I present to you the youma who defected to us from the Dark Kingdom—an eyewitness of the storm that will soon break over us all."

Kiima spared Beneda a brief glance. "You really think seeing one monster will change my opinion on this matter? Look to your own landling affairs; Ho'o peak will remain secure. We need no help to defend what is our own."

"That's not what I heard," put in Beneda. "I mean... what with the way Ranma and his friends tore through pretty much everything you threw against them..."

The winged woman's eyes flashed. "You would do well to watch your tongue, monster."

"She does raise a valid point," said Soap mildly. "However, the benefit to your people would not end with mere self-preservation. As Beneda pointed out, you were defeated in your attempt to forcibly wrest control of the Jusendo Taps. However... we are still willing to negotiate on the matter."

"Ah, I see now... Is that your trump card against us?" Beneda didn't like the smug little smile playing around Kiima's lips. "Control over Jusendo, in exchange for our aid?"

"Not control," corrected Soap. "But I have spoken with the Jusenkyo Guide, and he is willing to allow you temporary access to the Source. If you help us save the world, then when the time comes you will be permitted to drain Jusenkyo again. Though only for the duration required for your Lord Saffron's ascension ritual."

Kiima chuckled. "A tempting offer," she said, her smug look increasing. "Or rather, it would have been a few weeks ago. Unfortunately for you, we have no need of such a deal anymore. Our original spring on Ho'o Peak has re-opened."

"Re-opened? How—?" Then understanding flashed across Soap's face. "The battle. The battle between Ranma and Saffron."

"Indeed," was Kiima's response. "And with that, our last tie to the landling world has been severed. We have no need of you, or anything you can offer. We will wait out this storm as we have always done. It does not concern us."

Beneda glanced down at Soap, who wore a grimace of distaste. Then she looked back up at Kiima. Finally she spoke. "You're not really _that_ much of an idiot, are you?"

"Excuse me?" asked Kiima in a frosty tone.

"You honestly think your people are going to be safe just because you can hide up on a little mountain away from everything else?" Beneda shook her head in disbelief. "You really have no idea what's coming, do you? You have no idea at all."

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the Phoenix woman, closing the distance until their faces were inches apart. Beneda looked her directly in the eye. "But I do. I _know_ what lies sealed in the Dark Kingdom. I've felt her power. Every youma has. She's sleeping. Hungering. Waiting to be free."

"She's going to harvest this world, Kiima. Your mountain won't save you; she'd blast it to rubble as easily as you or I would draw a breath. She's going to devour or outright kill every single living thing on this planet, except for the ones she keeps as cattle for her youma."

Kiima still looked unconvinced. "And this army you're raising is supposed to prevent this?"

"Yes," was Beneda's flat reply. "Cologne has a plan. It's the best shot any of us have at surviving, but we'll need all the help we can get. And if you still have doubts..." She hesitated, then plunged recklessly forward on a sudden, wild idea. "...fight me."

The winged woman raised an eyebrow. "Fight you?"

"Trial by combat." Beneda's throat had gone completely dry, and she clenched her hands tight to keep them from shaking, but she continued on. "After all... if even a low-level youma like me can beat one of the Phoenix People's best fighters, then obviously we're a threat, right?"

Kiima stared at her for a long moment, then burst out in laughter. "You actually think _you_ can beat me?" she said, sounding both incredulous and amused. "Very well, I accept your proposal. If by some miracle you win, I will admit the danger of this 'Dark Kingdom' problem."

"Right. Good." The youma nodded—already starting to wonder whether her spur-of-the-moment challenge wasn't actually a very stupid idea. But there was no going back now. "Just... give me a minute to get ready."

The phoenix woman smirked. Beneda, for her part, walked back over to where Soap stood.

"What on earth do you think you're doing, child?" the old woman whispered as soon as she was close enough, looking at her with a concerned face. "You've officially challenged her to single combat! On my honor as a Joketsuzoku, I _cannot_ interfere. She may very well kill you."

"I know." Beneda flashed a smile she most definitely did not feel. "But if I win..."

"That is... not likely, from what I can tell of both your abilities," warned Soap. And the ancient master was right, of course. Some amount of physical training had been included in the regimen Doctor Tofu had given her, and the effect was amplified in her youma form, but she knew full well that Kiima was a warrior on an entirely different level from her.

"Maybe it isn't likely," the youma acknowledged, as she walked over to where she had dropped her backpack. She knelt down, and began rifling through the pockets until her hand closed on the small object she was searching for. "But then again... I do have a few tricks she may not be expecting..."

Soap did not look happy at all, but she said nothing more as Beneda turned and walked back toward Kiima, holding the object she had taken from her backpack cupped surreptitiously between the fingertips of her left hand. _This has to work exactly right..._ she thought, swallowing hard at the thought of the battle she was about to take part in.

Kiima crossed her arms. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm—"

_"Thousand Bird Wing Slice!"_ Before Beneda could finish the sentence, the air was filled with scything wind blades, shooting toward her with blinding speed. She hurled herself headlong sideways, rolling along the ground as the attack screamed past overhead.

_Just like the others described!_ she thought as she rolled. That was one of the few advantages she had been counting on in this fight. She'd already heard the stories of Ranma's clash with the Phoenix People, and everyone who'd fought Kiima—from Ranma to Shampoo to Akane—had noted how constantly she liked to use that exact technique.

Beneda had been ready for it.

She rolled to her feet, backpedaling to get as much distance between her and the phoenix woman as possible. The more lead time she had, the easier it would be to avoid those wind blades. Kiima watched her with a condescending smile, clearly taking her retreat as proof that the ground-bound youma was no threat.

That was important as well. If Kiima were treating this fight with full seriousness, Beneda knew she wouldn't have much of a chance. _I need to keep her overconfident. She has to think she can afford to toy with me._

The winged woman repeated her attack again—then a third, then a fourth time. It ripped furrows in the ground, and slashed down whole trees when it hit the edge of the clearing. Beneda ran for her life, putting every ounce of speed she had into simply staying ahead of the deadly onslaught. Even so, she soon felt a blade that she did not quite dodge cut into her leg. Youma dust sprayed into the air from the wound, and she let out a cry of pain.

The hit to her leg caused her to lose her balance, and she hit the ground hard. Desperately, she flung her arm up and formed one of her huge shuriken from her right hand, firing it directly at her opponent. Kiima raised her eyebrows a little, pausing in her attacks to draw her sword and strike the projectile from the air. "Interesting..." she mused. "But completely useless. You're doing a poor job of convincing me of the danger you pose, monster."

Beneda gritted her teeth and climbed back to her feet. She formed shuriken after shuriken on her right hand, firing them as fast as she could, only to have each one casually deflected. Eventually, though, a small frown crossed Kiima's face. "This is... growing tiring," she said, shaking her head as though to clear it. "Enough. _I will end this now!_"

Kiima drew herself up, and swung her wings in the largest Thousand Wing Bird Slice that Beneda had yet seen. The blades howled through the air, coming so fast that there was no possible way for her to avoid them all. The most she could do was try to minimize where she was hit, leaving her to jerk and spasm as the attack shredded into her. With a choked gasp she crumpled to the ground, dust seeping from multiple large wounds.

But, despite all that, through pure willpower, she managed to keep hold of what was between her left fingers.

Through the haze of pain, Beneda heard that Kiima was breathing hard after that last attack. "Old lady Kiima!" she heard one of her subordinates call out, concernedly. "What's wrong?"

"She's exhausted!" chirped the other one. "It must be her age catching up with her!"

"Shut up... you fools..." Kiima growled at them. Beneda cracked open one eye, and saw that the winged woman nearly doubled over, one hand resting on her knee. "I just... need to catch... my breath... and I'll finish her off."

Except that instead of recovering, Kiima's breathing only seemed to grow _more_ ragged the more she tried to rest. After a few seconds she crumpled down to one knee. Her eyes darted back and forth, not understanding what was going on... until finally her gaze settled on Beneda.

_Looks like she's onto me..._ Beneda thought. With a painful effort, the youma rolled back to her hands and knees, then pushed herself back to her feet. She was hurting badly, barely able to stand from her injuries, but she cracked a grin regardless.

In most cases, a youma's normal ability to drain energy was useless in combat. Too slow. Too short-range. That was why any youma sent on an energy-draining mission had to be given some kind of magical amplification to be effective. Morga had needed her energy-draining jewelry, Balm had needed her tarot cards, Kigaan had needed to lure her targets into one of her rigged busses.

Beneda didn't have any of those. But a few months ago, she had seen something else. A technique that—after a great deal of research and experimentation and practice—she had managed to adapt to a similar purpose. Something that would leverage her own unique nature to give her an edge in a world full of super-powered martial arts battles.

Raising her left hand, the youma leveled it directly at Kiima, focusing as hard as she could on sucking the woman's life energy through the 50 yen piece she held there.

The winged woman forced herself back to her feet, attempting another Thousand Wing Bird Slice. But she was too drained. Even severely injured, Beneda was able to avoid the few, poorly-controlled blades her opponent managed to create. Snarling, Kiima abandoned the showy excesses of the technique and charged toward her enemy with the last reserves of her strength, sword upraised.

Beneda kept draining as she closed, praying it would take her down. Her version wasn't nearly as powerful as Miss Hinako's original. Youma physiology allowed her to _use_ the technique... but it was not as perfectly tailored for that purpose as the teacher's body was. Where Hinako would have ripped Kiima's battle aura out by the roots in an instant, the most Beneda had ever been able to manage was a steady siphon.

It was not enough. Kiima staggered into close range and made a sword swing aimed at her foe's head, though it was clumsy from exhaustion. Beneda formed a shuriken on her right hand and brought it up in a block, equally clumsy from pain. The two blades clashed, deflecting off each other. The phoenix woman swung again and again, but each time the youma managed to parry it—all the while keeping up her energy drain.

Finally, Kiima's attacks slowed to the point where Beneda managed to twist her shuriken, locking her opponent's weapon between the prongs of hers. With a loud cry and a burst of effort, she tore the sword from her enemy's hands and flung it away.

It was a mistake. With Beneda's guard arm out of position, the phoenix warrior ignored her lost sword and lunged straight in, slamming her shoulder into the youma's chest. Then, as her foe staggered back, Kiima began punching her repeatedly, aiming for the largest of the wounds that her wind blades had inflicted.

Beneda howled in agony and crumpled to the ground, her 50 yen piece tumbling from her fingers into the grass below. Kiima followed her down, planting one knee on Beneda's chest as her hands constricted around Beneda's throat.

The youma tried to pry Kiima's hands off of her, but she didn't have the strength. The phoenix warrior's attack on her already-grievous wound had brought her to the brink of losing consciousness by itself, and now her oxygen had been cut off. Black spots swam across her vision, and she knew she was only seconds away from passing out. There was only time for one more action, one last chance.

And so, reaching up, she gathered ki to her fingertip and poked it into Kiima's right shoulder. The winged woman looked puzzled for all of half a second... until she felt her arm go completely limp, flopping uselessly at her side.

_Thank you, Doctor Tofu!_ Beneda thought, as she managed to drag a breath of beautiful, fresh air into her lungs. Then, drawing back her arm, she screamed and slammed her fist into Kiima's face with all her might.

The phoenix warrior was sent flopping backward, and with the strength of desperation, Beneda pressed her advantage. She crawled over to where Kiima lay, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her head back down when she tried to rise. The youma flung one leg over her, straddling the fallen warrior even as she formed shuriken on both her hands. She crossed them, holding both to her opponent's throat. "Give!" she shouted, her voice barely more than a croak.

Kiima glared back up at her, completely silent, her eyes burning with a mixture of pride and anger. Beneda, for her part, felt herself weakening. The burst of desperate exertion she had used to gain the upper hand was fading, leaving only her gaping wounds and the dust spilling from them. Her body was damaged worse than it had ever been before, and she knew she could not last much longer. _"Give!"_ she screamed again, pressing her blades right against her foe's skin. _"Give, damn it, we need your help!"_

Still Kiima said nothing. Beneda tried to shout something more... but it was getting so hard to think, as spiraling darkness rose up to claim her vision. In the end, all she managed was one last groan before toppling forward as unconsciousness claimed her.

* * *

When at last she woke, it was to a constant, throbbing pain that seemed to echo endlessly through her whole body, as though it were all one huge injury. Once she had regained enough of her senses to look around, she realized that she was flat on her back on her bedroll, staring up at the night sky.

"Beneda!" Tilting her head, the sometime-youma saw that Soap was kneeling over her, a look of relief on her face. "You're finally awake."

"I... guess so..." the Jusenkyo-cursed girl croaked out. Then the memories began to catch up with her. "The Phoenix People...?"

"Long gone," Soap told her. "Kiima called your match a draw. A draw! Bah, the foolishness some people will indulge in for pride's sake..."

The injured youma sighed despondently. "So we didn't get her support after all."

Soap snorted. "Even winning wouldn't have forced her support," she said gently. "Didn't you notice how she phrased the conditions, child? She promised to 'admit the danger'. _Admit_ it—not _do_ anything about it. She had you coming and going."

Beneda groaned, prompting Soap to pat her on the head with one of her tiny hands. "Oh, don't let it discourage you. In fact, it may be better this way. Promises notwithstanding, I think you made quite an impression on Kiima. You held her life in your hands. And you spared it, at risk to your own—because you _truly believed_ in the threat we all face."

The old woman gazed off into space, in what Beneda assumed was the direction of Ho'o Peak. "She'll remember that. Oh yes. Someone with her kind of pride won't easily forget a debt like that."

"So it... might have convinced her after all?" was Beneda's hopeful query.

"Who can say?" Soap shrugged. "Time alone will tell. For now, rest. That was an impressively brave and _unbelievably_ foolish thing you did... and such deeds usually require a good deal of time to recover from."

* * *

In the end, though, Beneda did not spend terribly long recuperating. Despite the debilitation of her injuries she still had all the raw life energy she had drained from Kiima during the fight, and Soap was willing to provide hers as well. As a result, the youma was able to heal at a significantly improved rate. Two days after the battle she was able to walk again, and they immediately set out for their next appointment.

On arriving Beneda found that it was a small community in a secluded mountain valley, its few buildings austere and spartan. Many of the inhabitants seemed to be warriors, but unlike the previous villages, the only weapons Beneda saw any of them using were swords of one kind or another.

There was a bit of strain at first; despite their best efforts to make up time, they had still arrived a full day late. But as soon as Soap explained that it was due to injuries sustained in a formal duel, any offense vanished. Indeed, Beneda's willingness to call out a stronger opponent over a matter of honor seemed to positively endear her to them.

It did still take a bit of negotiation and debate, but in the end they were able to secure the support of the Tian Wu Swordsmen. Much harder to convince were the Silk Lotus tribe, a group that used the same sort of Iron Cloth techniques Beneda had seen Ryouga use with his belt and bandannas. They, however, had built their entire fighting style around it, making weapons or armor out of every piece of fabric they touched.

Their leader, to Beneda's surprise, was a young child who could not have been more than ten. Or so it seemed, at least. It was only after negotiations began that he revealed a surprising insight and cutthroat ruthlessness that seemed distinctly un-childlike. When Beneda asked about it later, Soap had only one reply: "That man is a monster—one that should have died long, long ago." After that, she would say no more on the subject.

But, even though it had been a struggle, Beneda was in high spirits as they left the Silk Lotus village. Successfully concluding matters here meant that there was only one stop left to make. Despite the lingering pain from her injuries, she pressed onward with the eagerness of someone for whom the end goal is in sight.

* * *

"I think it's just up there!" Beneda called back, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight as she peered ahead. "Yes! Yes, I can definitely see a village! This is it!"

The youma increased her pace, hurrying onward. In her excitement, it took her a few moments to realize that she had left Soap behind. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw that the old woman seemed to be lost in thought, walking slower than usual. In fact, she almost seemed to be dragging her feet.

"Soap?" asked Beneda, frowning. Then, when it received no reply, she called out a little louder. "Soap!"

"Hmm?" the elder finally glanced up, eyes focusing on Beneda. "Oh, yes, sorry about that. Just... revisiting some old memories. Pay it no mind." With that she increased her speed, moving quickly past Beneda. The youma followed, a worried expression replacing her enthusiasm of just a moment prior.

The first thing Beneda noticed as they drew closer to the village was the palisade wall surrounding it, and more interestingly, the marks painted onto that wall. _Those look like defensive wards!_ thought Beneda. _The style is different from what I'm used to... but I'm sure that's what they are! These people know magic!_

Aside from that, it seemed a relatively normal village, not unlike what she had seen of the Joketsuzoku. People moving here and there, conversation and laughter filling the air, all the signs of a happy, bustling community...

...until Soap and Beneda walked through the gates.

As soon as the villagers saw them, a quiet murmur rippled through the crowd, leaving only a strained hush in its wake. Everyone stopped what they had been doing, staring at the pair as they made their way toward a large building in the center of the compound. Nervous, Beneda looked down at Soap, but the ancient master did not look back up at her. The old woman simply walked on, her face an emotionless mask.

The youma looked back at the crowd, wondering if the two of them were in any danger. But she did not detect any particular anger in their faces, nor even any fear. They were watching. Waiting for something to happen with strained anticipation, like watching a dam on the brink of collapse.

Like watching people going to their deaths.

Feeling scores of eyes on her with every step she took, Beneda adopted Soap's strategy and locked her eyes straight ahead, though she could not match the elder's unflappable composure. The journey from the gates to the central building passed in complete silence, and felt as though it took longer than the entire journey to this village from the previous one.

At last they reached the door, which Soap swung open and passed through without hesitation. A stairway, a hallway and another door were passed in a similar fashion, whereupon they found themselves in a small study.

It was littered with books, scrolls and all manner of magical and alchemical apparatus. It was a vast treasure trove of arcane knowledge—but it was to the figure at the far end of the room that Beneda's attention was drawn.

The woman was, like Soap, small and shrunken. She stood with her back toward them, staring out a window that overlooked the village. She was dressed in a robe with strange sigils woven into it, and wearing rings on each of her fingers bearing similar runes. And when she spoke, it was in a voice that dripped anger and bitterness from every word. "So you actually came. Sister of Cologne."

Soap took a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes. I have come to request your aid in—"

The cloaked woman whirled, thrusting out her hand toward Soap. A wave of invisible energy rippled through the air, blasting the elder back into the door through which she had come. The door shattered into fragments, and Soap went flying down the hallway outside, skidding to a stop on her back. "My aid?" she demanded, rage flashing in her eyes. "The Joketsuzoku request _my_ aid?"

She made a swift gesture with one finger, tracing a line of glowing light through the air. Another gesture sent it whipping down the hallway at Soap, winding through the air like a snake until it wrapped around her throat. The Joketsuzoku elder managed to get her cane up just in time, interposing it between her neck and the coils, just barely preventing it from strangling her.

Beneda's eyes bulged in shock. The attack had taken place with such blinding speed that she hadn't even had time to register what had happened until well after it was over. Frantic, she whipped up her arm and formed a shuriken, aiming it at their attacker. "S... stop, I'm warning you!" she shouted, fully aware of how ridiculous the threat was.

The old woman didn't look at her, barely even seemed to register her presence. Instead, she stalked down the hallway toward Soap. "Lower your weapon, Beneda!" shouted Soap, her arms trembling from the effort of holding the glowing cord at bay. Then she looked the oncoming woman in the eye. "Well?" she asked in a softer voice. "Finished with your temper tantrum yet?"

Her attacker's eyes flashed, and the noose began to tighten even harder. "Watch your words, sister of Cologne," she hissed.

Soap made no move to retaliate. "You know what it is we face, Meihui," she continued. "Far, far better than any of our other allies. You _know_ the danger to your people. And you won't throw away their chance for survival for your own personal vengeance. You care for them too much to do that. It's the only reason you didn't start all-out war with the Joketsuzoku the instant you became their leader."

Meihui said nothing, as the glowing cord continued to strain against Soap's cane. "So go ahead," challenged the Joketsuzoku, her voice cold. "Throw me through a few more walls, if it makes you feel any better about what we both know you're going to do. If that's what it takes, then I'm willing. Just let me know when you're ready to stop posturing and give me my answer."

For an instant, Meihui's killing intent spiked, and Beneda thought she really was going to try to end Soap's life. But then she grimaced, made a slashing motion with her hand, and the glowing cord around Soap's neck vanished.

"You should not have come here," the old woman bit out, as she stalked back toward her study. "If you think you know me so well as to predict my actions, you should not have needed to come and tempt my self-control."

"I needed an official answer," rasped Soap, rubbing the back of her neck where the cord had dug into the skin. "Politics."

Meihui made a disdainful gesture with her hand, not even bothering to turn around. "Consider it given."

Soap nodded, then pulled herself back to her feet. Meihui reached the ruined doorway to her study. Then she paused. "This... grand alliance of yours..." she said quietly. "Cologne will be there as well, will she not?"

"Yes," answered Soap. "She will."

"I see." Without further comment, the old woman walked back into her room.

After all that had happened, Beneda couldn't leave fast enough. The villagers stared at them again as they left, this time with a bit of astonishment mixed in. _They weren't expecting us to walk out of there alive..._ the youma realized.

Eventually, when at last they had left that village far enough behind that Beneda felt she could talk freely, she turned to Soap. "Is this really going to be all right?" she asked, disbelief tinting her voice. "Her as an ally? Can we trust her?"

Soap raised a forestalling hand. "I know how that must have looked," she said. "But don't worry. She really is an honorable woman, and she does care about her tribe more than anything. I'm almost positive she won't try to kill Cologne until after Metallia has been dealt with."

* * *

At long last, after far more days of travelling and negotiating than Beneda cared to remember, she and Soap finally drew near to the Joketsuzoku village, which prompted the youma to switch back to her human form. Upon arriving, they were immediately brought to Loofah and the Matriarch, who listened to their report intently.

When it was over, Loofah spoke up. "Impressive," she said. "Far better than I had dared hope. It seems we will indeed have a strong force with which to battle the Dark Kingdom."

The Matriarch turned to the currently-human girl. "Thank you for your part in this, Beneda," she said. "We could not have attained such results without your help. Please, is there anything we can do for you as a token of our gratitude?"

Beneda's eyebrows went up a little at the sudden offer, and she tried to think of a reply. It was difficult; in all honesty, she was so weary at this point from their constant travelling that she could think of nothing more appealing in the whole world than a nice soft bed and a few days worth of sleep. She opened her mouth to say as much—then paused, something finally occurring to her.

"Well, could you..." She didn't know quite how exactly to put this, but fumbled on anyway. "I'm not asking for any _really_ secret techniques or anything, but if you have... I don't know... any esoteric medical knowledge that you'd be willing to share, there's someone back in Nerima that I'd really like to bring back a gift for, and that's the sort of thing I think he'd appreciate."

Soap smiled. "Of course. I think we can put together a scroll or two of secrets that your Doctor Tofu hasn't seen before."

The girl studied her feet in embarrassment for a few moments, before nodding. "I'd really like that."

"I'm glad we could help," said the Matriarch. "Now you should go get some rest. You look just about ready to fall over."

Beneda nodded again, unhesitatingly this time. "I'd really like that, too."

* * *

Darkness.

There was darkness everywhere, covering everything. Pitch black, with not the slightest hint of light to show any surroundings. It was like a physical thing, choking, claustrophobic, smothering everything beyond the point of being able to scream.

She could not even see her own hands and feet, causing a terrifying sensation of vertigo and helplessness. She was trapped, held prisoner in the nothingness, and felt almost like she had become nothing herself. She stood there in the darkness, utterly lost and utterly alone.

And then, in the space between one breath and the next, she was not alone anymore.

The sensation pulsed through the darkness, reverberating like a distant drum of immense power. It made her tremble with the force of it, pounding, pounding. A heartbeat that was outside her chest, and yet still inescapably linked to her in some terrible way. She wanted to run, wanted to hide, but knew she could do neither.

Beneath her, the earth began to quake with the advent of that horrific presence. Seeing it was impossible, but she could feel it, taste it rising up in the darkness before her, a form so huge as to blot out the sky, looming over her as though she were nothing more than an insect.

And then she could see, as glowing eyes opened above her, bathing her in hellish radiance as a giant hand of inky shadow reached down from above to crush everything that ever existed...

* * *

Beneda woke, screaming at the top of her lungs as she thrashed back and forth. She heard other voices, but she was beyond comprehending the words. Strong hands finally grabbed her arms, holding her in place. "Beneda! _Beneda!_" Soap's voice managed to break through to her. "Beneda, calm down!"

Slowly, bit by bit, her struggles subsided. "What happened, child?" she heard Soap ask. "A nightmare?"

A nightmare. Beneda began to pull her scattered thoughts back together. A nightmare. Yes, that was what it had been. Just a dream. Just a dream.

But it hadn't been just a dream. She knew that, right down to the depths of her soul.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she turned to meet Soap's concerned gaze. "We need to call Cologne," Beneda told her. "Right now."

* * *

The jangling of the Nekohanten's telephone roused Shampoo from her slumber. Yawning, the young woman pulled herself out of her bed and made her way downstairs, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she went.

Upon arriving, she found that Mousse had reached the phone just before her. He stood there in his nightclothes, still looking a little groggy himself, but listening to the voice on the other end all the same. Eventually he glanced up at Shampoo. "It's Soap," he said, a little surprised. "She wants to talk to Cologne. She says it's urgent."

Shampoo blinked, then nodded. She would have headed back upstairs to Cologne's room, but a small noise caught her attention, coming from the room with the television in it. Frowning, the warrior girl went in to look.

Cologne stood in the darkened room, staring at the television as its pale light flickered over her craggy face. The volume was turned down so low as to be barely audible, but Shampoo could make out some parts regardless.

_"...far exceeding what any experts would expect from the normal solar cycle. No theories have yet been proposed that would explain this strange and troubling phenomenon..."_

The young woman cleared her throat. "Great-grandmother?" she said, in Chinese.

"Yes, Shampoo?" Cologne responded, not taking her eyes off the news broadcast.

"Auntie Soap is calling from China. She says that it is very urgent."

_"...helpless to do anything but watch. The growth of these strange sunspots is progressing at a steady rate, with no signs of slowing or stopping..."_

"Yes," agreed the old woman, her expression hard as flint. "Yes, it is."


	2. Converging

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ranma 1/2 or Sailor Moon in any way, shape or form. All associated characters, trademarks, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takahashi and Naoko Takeuchi. I'm just telling some stories about them.

**Author's Note:** Just an FYI for those who use the default story-filtering rules of this site, which only show up to the "T" rating. When Chapter Three of this fic is released, I may decide to bump the rating of this fic to an "M" to be on the safe side, due to some of the fight scenes I have slated for it. It all depends on how they work out in practice, when I actually get them written. Just wanted to let you all know, so hopefully nobody misses it.

* * *

Chapter Two: Converging

Ranma spared a troubled glance upward as he walked down the street. Dark clouds stretched out across the sky, slowly roiling and writhing like long fingers reaching out to choke the heavens in their oppressive grip. A chill crawled up and down his spine. There was something unnatural about those clouds. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

Beside him, Cologne hopped along on her wooden cane. Her appearance at the Tendo dojo had been unexpected. Even more unexpected had been her terse request that he accompany her to the Nekohanten. The ancient master had spoken little since then, keeping pace with him in silence.

Several times Ranma opened his mouth to speak, but each time he had swallowed the words at the last minute, allowing the strained quiet to continue. Eventually, though, his curiosity proved too much. "So what's all this about, granny?" he asked, glancing down at the diminutive old woman.

Cologne did not respond for a while, and when she did speak it was not a direct answer to his question. "Tell me, son-in-law..." she asked. "How much do you know of the recent disturbances that have swept our world over the past few weeks?"

Ranma blinked. That was not a subject he had expected her to raise. "Uh... just what we've been hearing on the television," he answered, scratching his head as he tried to shift mental gears and remember what the newscasters had said. "Earthquakes... Hurricanes... Volcanoes erupting... And it all started with those weird sunspots. I hear no one's seen anything like it before."

"Mmm..." Cologne murmured. "Yes, the sunspots. But this is _not_ the first time that such signs have occurred, son-in-law. It happened once before. And for the same reason."

"Really?" asked Ranma, surprised. "You mean you know what's causing all this?"

The ancient master let out a mirthless chuckle. "That is the wrong question, I am afraid. It is not a question of _what_ is causing this... but rather _who_." Now she did turn to face Ranma, looking up at him, directly into his eyes. "The demoness Metallia is straining against the bars of her prison... and the entire planet is trembling under the weight of her power."

Ranma felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Wait, what are you trying to say, old ghoul?" he asked. "When you say 'straining', do you mean she's—"

"I mean," Cologne interjected, "that as I read the signs, she will be completely free inside of a week."

A curse died unspoken on Ranma's lips, as he was too shocked to voice it. "Then... what are we going to do about it?" he demanded. "And what about the Senshi? And that princess chick? I thought you said she had some kind of special power that'd let her nuke the damn thing!"

"She does," replied Cologne. "And she must. But the power of House Serenity does not come without a price. It is capable of defeating Metallia... but to employ it at such earth-shattering levels exacts a heavy cost on the wielder. At best, its use would cause extreme exhaustion. At worst... it could cost her life, as it did her mother. Either way, it is an exceedingly treacherous weapon, a double-edged sword of last resort."

Ranma stared down at the old woman. "So you're saying that this 'invincible' power she has... it's a one-shot deal?" he asked, incredulous. "That doesn't sound very invincible to me. It's not like Metallia is the only thing they'll be throwing at her!"

Cologne nodded. "Quite so," she agreed. "We ourselves received a taste of their might when Jadeite's army attacked Nerima, and that was only a small fraction of the Dark Kingdom's full, combined forces."

"Then she can't win. Not alone." Ranma shook his head. "There's no way those girls can fight an army like that using their normal power, and if the Moon girl burns her big magic taking out small fry she'll be screwed against Metallia. Or hell, even just the _next_ wave of youma they send. She's gonna need our help."

"Very astute, son-in-law," was Cologne's approving reply. "You grasp the situation quite clearly."

"Yeah, well... let's just hope we can come up with something _really_ good," Ranma muttered. "I mean, we barely survived against Jadeite's last attack. And if we're going up against their _full_ army now, it... might get a little tricky."

At that, Cologne let out a tiny chuckle. "Perhaps..." she said. "But then again..."

As she spoke, the two of them turned the final corner, and the Nekohanten came into view. Ranma's eyes bulged at what he saw.

The entire street was choked by a tightly-packed crowd, spilling out of the restaurant and stretching back as far as he could see. Nor was it only at ground level; the rooftops were also thick with people. Many of those had large wings sprouting out of their backs, and at the sight of Cologne's approach, several of the Phoenix warriors took to the air, swooping in overhead for a closer look before veering off to circle in the air above. Ranma caught sight of Kiima among the fliers, though she did not acknowledge him.

Down at ground level, Ranma was able to pick many familiar faces out of the crowd—Joketsuzoku warriors who had been part of the first army sent to Nerima all those months ago. The elders Soap and Loofah were among them, though he could not see the Matriarch.

And there were far more that he did not recognize, men and women both, with clothes and weapons of a markedly different style from Cologne's tribe. One large group clustered over to the left wore little more than rough kilts or loincloths, their bodies covered instead by intricate, swirling tattoos. The weapons they carried were a mishmash of various types, in varying states of repair.

Further on, another group particularly stood out. Its members were all clad in loose, flowing robes, with many different sashes and scarves wrapped around them every which way in a riot of color. They bore no visible weapons... but Ranma was willing to bet that they studied the Iron Cloth techniques, and could do some very nasty things with all those innocent-looking strips of fabric.

There were a few others that he recognized as well. He caught a brief glimpse of Pink and Link through the press of the crowd. The identical twin poison masters looked much as he had seen them last, except this time they were each decked out with a full bandolier of various gourds and satchels, no doubt containing all manner of noxious concoctions. They were surrounded by a group of close to a hundred similarly equipped warriors.

And there—with even the other martial artists keeping their distance from him and his group—stood another figure Ranma would have known anywhere: Prince Herb of the Musk Dynasty.

The dragon-blooded ruler was flanked, as usual, by his two bodyguards, Mint and Lime. Together, the three of them stood at the head of a large contingent of other warriors, rank upon rank of men who bore the bestial features of that fearsome clan. Some were massively built, with hints of the tiger about them, while others were small and wiry, with hints of the wolf. Some were tall and slender, with hands that looked more like hawk talons than human hands, while others had skin reminiscent of scales and forked tongues that occasionally flicked into view.

Jaw hanging open, Ranma stared at the vast army spread out before him. Beside him, Cologne smiled with grim satisfaction. "The challenge we face is daunting," she agreed. "However, we have not been idle in preparing for it."

* * *

The next few minutes were a blur of faces for Ranma, as he followed Cologne through the teeming press of martial artists. The old woman paused at various points to exchange words with people who seemed to be leaders or representatives of the various tribes. She was unfailingly courteous, but Ranma could still detect a tense undercurrent to many of the conversations with the non-Joketsuzoku.

Then, as they wound their way toward the entrance to the Nekohanten, Herb himself stepped into their path. He looked down at the human, a half-smile on his face. "So, Ranma. We meet again." Almost unconsciously, the pigtailed fighter's hands curled into fists.

"Herb..." broke in Cologne warningly. "This is _not_ the time..."

In response, the dragon prince held up one hand. "Peace, Elder. I have no intention of starting a battle here. Nevertheless, once the larger matter we face has been dealt with, I _would_ like to request another match. A formal duel this time. Not to the death. I have re-intensified my training since last we met, and I am... eager... to see how we fare against each other now."

It took a large measure of Ranma's self-control not to swallow visibly. Herb was easily one of the most dangerous opponents he had ever faced, and even the single win he had managed to achieve had been through a last-minute trick that would certainly not work a second time. The thought of facing an _even more_ powerful Herb was not a comforting one.

Aloud, though, he simply laughed, making sure his cocky smirk showed no signs of wavering. "Any time you're ready," he offered. "Just don't let the youma get you first. It'd be pretty embarrassing if I had to save your life. Again."

Herb's mouth flattened into a thin, irritated line. "Indeed," he said. "Do not think that I will ever allow _that_ event to repeat itself. I have worked tirelessly since that day to remove all weaknesses from my fighting style. Those monsters will not have the slightest success against me."

His boasting, however, was interrupted as a young woman ran up to them from within the ranks of Musk Dynasty soldiers. Ranma didn't recognize her; she looked to be a year or two older than him, with short-cropped black hair and a pair of steel tonfa strapped across her back. "Ah, there you are," Herb said to her. "Your timing is perfect. Xi Feng, this is Saotome Ranma, the warrior I told you about. Ranma, this is Xi Feng, my wife."

Ranma blinked. _"Wife?"_ he echoed, surprised. But of course, now that he thought about it, Herb had mentioned during their last fight something about his upcoming marriage being the root cause of the events leading up to the prince's quest for the Kettle of Liberation. "So, this is her, huh?"

"Yes," Herb told him. Then he leaned in closer to Ranma, his smile increasing in smugness. "And there is one more avenue of attack that you will no longer be able to use against me. In addition to my martial training, I have also been undergoing _very_ extensive training to remove my weakness to female breasts."

To his side, Xi Feng's entire face flushed a brilliant shade of crimson at his words. She immediately whipped out her tonfa, raised them high above her head, then brought them down on Herb's skull with enough force to drive him face-first into the street. The strike was accompanied by a shouted string of Chinese words which Ranma could not translate... but which he nevertheless felt intimately familiar with.

As she stormed off, Herb pried his head out of the crater it had formed in the road, spitting a few bits of concrete out of his mouth. "Women..." he muttered, in a perplexed tone of voice.

"You said it, man..." agreed Ranma, nodding sympathetically. "You said it."

* * *

It was several minutes more of moving through the crowd, speaking with people along the way, before the two of them reached the Nekohanten proper. Upon entering, they made their way to one of the upper rooms. There was a long table there, with over a dozen chairs surrounding it. Most of the seats were empty, save for the seat at the head of the table where the frail figure of the Joketsuzoku Matriarch sat. "Saotome Ranma," she greeted him as he walked in. "It is a pleasure to meet you again. Even if the occasion for it is such a dark one."

But any further conversation was cut off as more people began to enter the room. The Matriarch made sure to greet each of them personally as well. Ranma recognized many of them from their recent trip through the army outside, and realized that a meeting of the tribal leaders was about to occur.

Many of the figures entering were small and shrunken, looking of similar age to Cologne. Many, but by no means all. Herb was one of them, as was Kiima. Another one appeared to be little more than a child... at first glance, at least. But there was a jaded, world-weary expression on the boy's face, and looking closer Ranma noticed hints of wrinkles around the boy's eyes that didn't look quite right.

More and more kept coming, filtering in one by one and finding their seats. And with each new arrival, Ranma felt the level of tension in the room increase. Everyone—save for Cologne and the Matriarch, who kept themselves impassive—seemed to have at least one other person that they were watching suspiciously. Most had more than one. A huge, bald, tattooed man further down the table seemed to be trying to watch the entire room at once.

Then the door opened once more... and in an instant the very air seemed to freeze.

Ranma turned to see who it was that had entered. It was another tiny old woman, this one wrapped in a robe that was covered in all kinds of indecipherable symbols. Most of the other masters tensed, as though preparing themselves for imminent battle. All eyes were on the newcomer as she made her way to the table and took her seat at the far end, opposite where Cologne and the Matriach sat.

The robed woman's gaze was fastened directly on Cologne, and Ranma felt his skin crawl at the intensity of it. He had his own fair share of enemies. He had received his own share of challenges and death threats. But never, in all his life, had he seen anyone look at him with the kind of raw, aching hatred that this woman was directing at the Joketsuzoku elder.

Cologne, for her part, met the woman's gaze without flinching. "Meihui," she said at last, giving a small nod.

"Cologne..." responded Meihui, her voice thick with venom. "It is a pleasure to see you again... old friend." Something flashed across Cologne's face for just an instant, an emotion Ranma could not identify. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, smothered behind the elder's emotionless mask.

Even so, the exchange seemed to relax the tension just a bit, indicating to the onlookers that there would be no immediate violence. The Matriarch took the opportunity to raise her hand in a gesture of welcome.

"I thank you for agreeing to this venture," she began, her voice grave. "All of you know the reason we have gathered our forces together. All of you have heard the legends of the Dark Kingdom, legends that have spread throughout our region since time immemorial."

As she spoke, a younger Joketsuzoku warrior entered, bearing an ornate black box. She placed it in front of the Matriarch, bowed deeply, and then backed out of the room again. "Now these legends have confronted us in the present day," the ancient woman continued. "And it has fallen to us to do battle with them. But before anything else, I would share with you the ultimate source of these legends we all know. The means by which this tale has survived the ages."

The Matriarch reached beneath her robes, pulling out an ancient key that she had been wearing around her neck, held by a length of cord. "In showing this to outsiders, I break with untold generations of Joketsuzoku tradition," she explained, as her frail hands inserted the key into the lock on the box. It turned with a sharp click. "However, all of you are soon to stake your lives alongside us in battle against the very evil to which this artifact bears witness. There is no question in my mind that you deserve to see this for yourselves."

She lifted the top of the box and set it aside, revealing the small metallic disc that had been inside. "We have come seeking wisdom we do not possess," recited the Matriarch, as she reached forward to press the single button on the disc's face. "We prepare this day to wage war against those who murdered your family. Honored Altine, please listen to our plea..."

* * *

Ryouga glanced around as he walked, noting the buildings as he went by them. It was mostly a perfunctory gesture; he had little hope of distinguishing them from any other of the countless buildings that his nomadic life had carried him past.

At least this time he actually had a good chance of reaching his destination. Clad in her usual sweater and skirt, Unryu Akari was walking demurely along to his left, while her gigantic sumo pig Katsunishiki was walking along to Ryouga's right. The two of them were working together to keep the lost boy roughly on course for the Nekohanten.

Ryouga turned to look at his girlfriend—and even after all the time they had been together, he still marveled to think of her as... as _that_. How had someone like him ever gotten so lucky? He watched her, drinking in the sight of her as she absently tucked a loose strand of her shoulder-length hair behind one ear. So beautiful. So gentle. So wonderful.

To his right, Katsunishiki's towering bulk was certainly a less lovely sight, but Ryouga didn't begrudge the pig's presence. He knew how dearly Akari loved the animal, and besides, it was thanks to defeating that pig in battle that he had become Akari's boyfriend in the first place.

He had spent the last three days at Akari's farm, thanks to a mysterious request from Cologne. The ancient master had sent word to the young pig breeder, first asking her to keep Ryouga there should he manage to find the place, and now summoning him to her restaurant. Ryouga had not, of course, minded staying at Akari's in the slightest, but at the same time he was curious as to what Cologne wanted of him. For no reason he could put a finger on, a cold worry was already starting to form in his stomach.

Eventually they reached the Nekohanten. Ryouga's eyes widened at the sight of the army gathered there, and he heard a small gasp from Akari. The cold feeling in his stomach increased drastically. If there had been any doubts as to the seriousness of Cologne's request, they were now gone. In fact, he could think of only one thing serious enough to prompt such a marshalling of warriors.

The Dark Kingdom.

* * *

Inside the restaurant, each member of the war council sat in silence, digesting the story they had heard from Altine's artifact. The gravity of the situation they faced hung over them like a cloud.

At length one of them spoke up, a tiny old woman wearing the same sort of gourds and satchels that Ranma had seen on the members of Pink and Link's tribe. "This is troubling indeed," she said. "But I assume that, since you've gone to the trouble of calling us out here, the Joketsuzoku have some plan to stop this from coming to pass again?"

This time, it was Cologne who responded. "Yes, we have a plan. We have spent many months preparing for this moment. We have gathered weapons, gathered information, and gathered allies. But we can prepare no longer. Now is the time to strike with all our might... and take this war to the Dark Kingdom."

The ancient master reached under the table, pulling out a map of the city. "Beneda—the youma many of you met recently—has told us the location of the portal they are using to move their operatives back and forth from their realm to ours," she said, her finger stabbing down on a certain location in the Minato ward. "I have studied the seal on it, and I have prepared a counterspell to 'pick the lock' as it were. This will allow us direct access to their territory."

One of the other leaders snorted—the huge tattooed man. "Is there no other route to our opponents?" he rumbled, contempt in his voice. "I dislike relying on Joketsuzoku witchery."

A thin smile crossed Cologne's face as she turned to look at him. "The enemy managed to open another portal in London at one point," she told him. "But it was abandoned and sealed some time ago. The only other access point is at the North Pole... and if you think you can handle the logistical difficulties of transporting our forces _there_, you are welcome to make the attempt, Lao Shihong."

The man grunted, and said no more, so Cologne continued. "We will make our move tomorrow evening, using the cover of darkness. The Juuban authorities are not as numb to... abnormal occurrences... as the ones here in Nerima have become, and our army will cause unnecessary complications if we give them time to react to it."

The old master spread out a new map onto the table, this one hand-drawn. "We know—again, thanks to Beneda—what we will find on the other side once we breach the portal: a system of underground tunnels between us and our goal. This is their layout as best she can remember it."

"How wide are these tunnels?" inquired Herb. "Too narrow, and it will impede the flow of our troops through them."

Cologne nodded. "They are, indeed, much narrower than I would like. To maximize the speed of our attack, we will need to divide ourselves into three groups, each taking a different route. Group One will consist of the Joketsuzoku, the Yakusai Poisoners, and the Silk Lotus Tribe, led by Loofah. Group Two will consist of the Jiuxue Mystics, the Phoenix People, and Lao Shihong's mercenary clan, led by Meihui. Group Three will consist of the Musk Dynasty, the Tian Wu Swordsmen, and the Monks of the Third Enlightenment, led by Prince Herb."

Pausing, she looked around the room, silently challenging any of the leaders to object. There was some muttering, but the overall tone seemed to be grudging acceptance. Privately, Ranma wondered how much of the way the groups had been split was due to actual tactics, and how much was due to politics—the tribes that Cologne had known would be willing to fight alongside each other.

The old woman ran her finger along the map, tracing three different routes along the twisting lines drawn there. "Our battle plan is simple. The three groups will fight their way through the tunnel system as quickly as possible, then meet up again and stage a combined assault here, on their main citadel."

Her finger then stabbed down on a different part of the map, where the tunnels opened out into a huge cavern. At the far end of that cavern was the rough drawing of a building. "The objective is to kill Beryl, seize control of her palace, and—most importantly of all—to secure the central chamber where Metallia is sealed."

"And what then?" asked the hooded Mehui. "Securing her resting place is all well and good, but do we have any method of destroying such an unbelievably powerful entity? Or preventing her eventual escape?"

"We do not," answered Cologne, a small smile flitting across her face. "Fortunately, however, there is another group which does."

Kiima frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

"The Moon Kingdom reborn," Cologne's replied. "I have seen them with my own eyes. In this darkest hour, Metallia's ancient foes have returned to battle her once more."

A low murmur ran through the assembled leaders. Cologne let that news sink in for a moment, then went on. "Once our armies have removed the threat of the Dark Kingdom forces, I will entreat the Sailor Senshi to deal with the slumbering Metallia under controlled circumstances. It may require a bit of explaining, due to... certain first impressions that were made... but I am confident we can work through that in time. For now, there is no reason to risk our trump cards on the front lines in this battle. This part is _our_ fight."

"But is it a fight we can win?" asked the child-like leader.

"We _must_ win," was Cologne's immediate and unhesitating reply. "And I believe it is possible. This alliance represents the greatest concentration of martial might in any of our clans' histories. And, thanks to the scheming of my son-in-law, the Dark Kingdom has no idea we even exist. Our attack will come as a complete surprise."

She looked around at the other leaders, her gaze drilling into them. "This is the moment we have been waiting for, our one chance to strike. The fate of this planet—of everyone any of us has ever cared about—will hinge on our actions tomorrow night. This battle has been millennia in coming... but one way or another, the war against the Dark Kingdom is about to be decided."

* * *

The leaders talked and argued for hours after that, going over the details of the plan. Ranma followed along as best he could, but large-scale battle tactics had never been his area of expertise. Still, eventually the leaders reached something resembling agreement, and one by one they started to leave to inform their respective troops.

At length, the only ones left were Cologne and Ranma. The pigtailed fighter was not long in speaking up. "So I noticed you didn't mention me when you were splitting us into groups," he said. "Where am I going to be in all of this?"

"I would like you to accompany Group Two, son-in-law," the old woman replied. "That is by far the weakest of the three, and I am counting on your strength to help bolster it."

Ranma nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "Though I don't know how well the Phoenix People are going to take that, considering what I just went through with them."

"They will be difficult to handle," Cologne agreed. "I honestly wasn't expecting them to involve themselves in 'landling' matters at all, but it seems that Beneda was... quite persuasive when she spoke with them. And you may find that you yourself impressed them more than you realize in your time there. There are not many who can claim to have defeated the ascended Phoenix King in open combat."

"I guess..." Ranma was skeptical, but he didn't press the issue. "Well... as long as they're helping us, it's good. I just hope there isn't going to be any trouble."

Cologne sighed. "Believe me, son-in-law, if a grudge is going to flare up, there are even more likely sources. In the end, your little spat with the Phoenix People is a very, very small thing compared to the animosity between some of the tribes gathered here."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that..." The pigtailed fighter frowned. "What was the deal between you and that Meihui woman, anyway? And why did she call you an 'old friend'?"

"Because that is what we were, son-in-law," Cologne replied simply. "Friends. The closest of friends."

"She didn't look very friendly to me."

"She was, once." Cologne's eyes lost their focus slightly, staring off into the distance. "Our tribes were allies at the time. We fought alongside each other. Saved each others' lives more times than I can count. In fact, most of what I know of magic is based on what I learned while training with her."

Second after second stretched by, the two of them standing there in silence, until at last Ranma spoke up. "So... what happened?"

"Alliances between tribes are such... ephemeral things," said the ancient master. She turned away from Ranma, speaking with her back toward him. "And her elders decided that our alliance was no longer to their advantage. They decided to end it by means of a traitorous ambush. Had it been successful, it would have killed half of the Joketsuzoku Council and a good number of our best fighters... including me."

As she spoke, Ranma could feel pain and regret in the old woman's voice, like an open wound laid bare. He licked his lips, a terrible suspicion growing in him as to what had happened all those years ago. "But... she warned you," he guessed. "Didn't she?"

Cologne nodded, slowly. "The only reason I am alive today is that Meihui managed to send word to me of the betrayal. I, of course, brought the warning before my own elders. I thought... I suppose I thought that they would simply avoid the ambush. Perhaps use their knowledge of it as a bargaining chip in future negotiations."

She paused, then let out a mocking laugh—one utterly devoid of anything resembling humor. "I was much younger back then. And a much, much greater fool."

"Our Council had no interest in negotiation. They had been betrayed. And they wanted blood. Instead of avoiding the area, they used the information Meihui had given me to attack the ambush party head-on, wiping them out entirely. No mercy. No quarter. Everyone there was slaughtered." Cologne drew in a deep, shaky breath, then let it out. "Including Meihui's younger sister."

Another bitter laugh escaped Cologne's lips. "That was how Meihui had learned of the plot, as it turned out. Her sister had slipped word to her, so that she could slip word to me, so that I could warn my people... so that we could repay her with death. And ever since that day, Meihui has hated me almost as much as she hates herself."

A dead silence fell across the room, each second feeling like an eternity. "But..." Ranma said at last, fumbling for the right words. "But you _had_ to warn them or they'd have all been killed, right? And... once they knew, it's not like you could have stopped them on your own! I mean... what else could you have done?"

"A thousand different things!" Cologne snapped. "A thousand different ways I could have handled it, if I'd only had the _sense!_"

Then she sighed, the anger deflating out of her. "Not that it makes any difference now. Even if I spend another hundred years thinking over what I _should_ have done... I won't be able to undo what happened between us. Time flows in only one direction, son-in-law. It's a simple lesson, but a painful one."

Ranma stood there, not knowing what to say. He wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but everything he thought of seemed woefully inadequate in the face of what he had heard. How could anyone fix something like that?

But, although he didn't speak, in that moment he did silently resolve to keep an eye on Meihui as best he could whenever she was with Cologne... just in case the ancient mystic decided to act on the desperate hatred he had seen in her eyes.

* * *

Soap hopped along atop her cane through the milling crowds of fighters packing the streets, following the young Tian Wu swordsman who had approached her.

"Just this way, ma'am," he told her. The boy was trying to sound formal and officious, as he no doubt thought would befit a warrior dealing with a dignitary from another tribe, but the ancient master could hear the youthful uncertainty in his voice. Probably his first time dealing with such weighty matters.

She could sympathize. The fate of the world! Who _was_ prepared for such a task?

After a bit more walking they reached the most recent problem that had sprung up in their way. A pair of extremely nervous policemen were standing at the edge of the army, their exit blocked by a half-circle of about a dozen warriors. It seemed that—even despite the usual Nerima jadedness regarding martial arts antics—word had reached official ears about such an unprecedentedly huge gathering. And they had sent these men to investigate the truth of it.

Not that Cologne hadn't prepared for such an eventuality, of course. She'd had scouts—like the ones who had caught these two—patrolling a wide radius around their camp from the very beginning, alert for both disguised youma as well as more human investigation.

The former hadn't proved to be an issue. Save for Beneda, there hadn't been a youma in Nerima since Jadeite had pulled the remnants of his forces out all those months ago. Still, too much human attention could result in their enemies learning of it as well.

The Dark Kingdom did still have deep-cover spies in the human world; Joketsuzoku hunters had identified almost a dozen over the past months, searching them out by their tell-tale ki signatures. They were mostly concentrated in governmental centers like Chiyoda Ward, with some others in Minato Ward since it was their base of operations. Still, even there, word might reach them if steps weren't taken to nip this in the bud.

The element of surprise was, after all, one of their few advantages in this.

"Ah, good morning gentlemen!" Soap called out to the policemen merrily as she hopped up to them. "So nice of you to visit us. How can I help you?"

The two men glanced at each other, then nervously out at the ring of grim-faced warriors encircling them. "We... we heard a report that there was a... strange gathering at this address..." one of them spoke up, his face pale. "Our chief just told us to check it out. We're not looking for any trouble!"

"Of course, of course," the old crone said soothingly. "Please, by all means, have a look around! We're always glad to welcome more visitors to our cultural festival."

Both policemen blinked, then took a long look at the ranks upon ranks of hard-bitten warriors flooding the street behind Soap, armed to the teeth with all manner of lethal-looking weaponry. "Cultural... festival?" one of them said, disbelievingly.

"Oh yes!" Soap went on, as though oblivious to their skepticism. "Our first annual Chinese Cultural Festival! We even have a sign; I'm surprised you didn't see it on your way in." She pointed behind the two officers, and reflexively, they turned to look where she indicated.

The instant they turned their backs, Soap whipped a comb and a bottle of Formula 411 shampoo out of her sleeve using the hidden weapons technique. A quick swing and a squeeze of the bottle slathered both their heads with it, and she immediately went to work. The old woman scrubbed both their heads simultaneously, one with each hand, while still balancing atop her staff, while at the same time pressing the shiatsu points in the skull to manipulate memory.

After finishing the main part of the Xi Fa Xiang Gao, she produced a bucket of ice-cold water and splashed it over them, followed by a quick drying with a battery-powered blow dryer. All in all it had taken twenty-one seconds.

When they finally turned around again the two policemen had a slightly befuddled look on their faces, but that quickly vanished. "Well, thank you very much, ma'am!" one of them said. "It was very kind of you to show us around your wonderful cultural festival! We'll go back and report to our superiors that there was nothing to worry about; just a harmless gathering that got blown all out of proportion by rumors."

"Oh, thank you very much!" responded Soap. The Xi Fa Xiang Gao would ensure that these two always remembered their time here as the festival she had told them it was, utterly impervious to any other evidence that might come up. And since neither of these two looked to have the strength of will that the Tendo girl had, she wasn't particularly worried about either of them snapping out of it.

The old woman sighed. One more hurdle cleared, at least for the moment. She turned back to the ring of scouts. "Let them go," she ordered. "And resume your patrols. There's no telling who else might decide to come looking."

* * *

Ranma walked out of the war council room troubled, still trying to come to grips with what Cologne had told him. His train of thought, however, was interrupted immediately after stepping through the doorway when he saw who was waiting for him on the other side.

It was Kiima, leader of the Phoenix People. Temporary leader, at least—the last time Ranma had seen Saffron, the _true_ Phoenix ruler had been sucking on a pacifier while in baby form after his reincarnation, and as far as he knew that was still the case.

Now the question was, how much of a grudge did this Phoenix woman still hold over that whole mess?

Ranma met her gaze without flinching, and for a moment they just sized each other up. Then Kiima sighed, her lip twisting in an expression of mild distaste. "Well, it seems as though we'll be fighting on the same side for the present," she told him.

"Yeah, guess so," agreed Ranma, not taking his eyes off her.

"And since we are on the same side... given the situation..." Whatever she was trying to say to him, he could tell it was hard for her. After hesitating a little while longer, she simply raised her arm in his direction.

Ranma saw that she was holding something very long, and wrapped tightly in an ornate cloth. With a quick yank on the strings binding it the fabric unwound, revealing what it had been covering. Both were staves, one with a circular blade on the end, the other with a blade in a crescent shape. The pigtailed fighter recognized them instantly as the Kinjakan and the Gekkaja.

He tensed, instinctively preparing to defend himself, but Kiima made no move to attack. Instead she took one weapon in each hand, then turned the Gekkaja to extend it toward Ranma, haft-first. "Here."

"Wait... you're saying... for me?" asked Ranma, stunned. "Really? I mean... I know we didn't exactly get off to the best start..."

Kiima scowled. "Please, _don't_ remind me," she said. "But even so, despite our... experiences with each other... I trust you more than most of those landlings here. I will bear the Kinjakan into battle myself, but to make the most efficient use of our resources against this enemy I must find a bearer for the Gekkaja as well. And... I have never in my life seen anyone wield it with as much skill as you did."

Hesitantly, Ranma reached out, running his fingers along the length of the staff. Then his grip tightened, even as Kiima relinquished hold, and he felt the familiar weight settle into his palm. "...thanks," he said at last.

The Phoenix woman's only reply was a curt nod, whereupon she turned and walked away, leaving Ranma to re-acclimate himself with the weapon.

* * *

Ryouga meandered through the teeming press of warriors. Katsunishiki and Akari followed in his wake, the latter timidly. He sized up the new arrivals as he went, wondering how well they would stack up against him or Ranma. There were a handful of sparring matches going, and the fighters involved were showing tolerable skill... though nothing to write home about by his standards.

"_Hey!_ Bandana-boy!"

The directionally-challenged warrior turned at the angry shout, and his eyes widened a little at the sight of Lime shoving his way through the crowd. _Even the Musk are here?_ he thought.

He stood his ground as the huge, tiger-blooded fighter bore down on him. Lime drew to a stop with mere inches separating them as he glowered down. "Just so you know," the young Musk behemoth growled at him, stabbing a finger into Ryouga's chest that knocked the human staggering back. "When this is over, we're going to settle our score from last time. Be ready for it!"

Ryouga opened his mouth to throw back a retort—no matter who the opponent, he couldn't let himself look bad in front of Akari, after all—but he was cut off by a deep, booming laugh from the direction Lime had come. A moment later, the crowd parted as a giant of a man waded through it.

He was a full head and a half taller than Lime, and he was built like a tank. He wore the same style of tiger furs, and—save for the slight difference of a sprinkling of grey hair around his temples—he bore an uncanny resemblance to the younger Musk warrior.

"Ah, so _this_ is what made you run off so fast..." the man rumbled. Then he turned to Ryouga. "You're the one who beat him, yes? Don't mind the cub. He's just sore from all the taunts he's been getting back home for losing to a human."

_"Father!"_ protested Lime, clearly mortified at his parent's intrusion into his affairs. His father responded with a quick cuff behind the head, prompting a yelp of pain from his offspring. Ryouga blanched a little, knowing from personal experience just how much force it took to make the tiger-warrior so much as flinch.

Then Lime's father spoke again. "As I said, don't pay it any mind. A good loss every now and then is the best thing for a cub! Keeps them from getting soft, keeps their fighting spirit up. Keeps them hungry to get back in the fight and rip their opponent to shreds!" He gave Ryouga a beaming, toothy smile. Ryouga responded with a smile of his own... though it was, perhaps, just a bit on the sickly side.

Still, his personal reservations aside, it did actually hearten Ryouga to see the Musk here. He had seen firsthand the powers that their animal ancestry gave these warriors, powers that were inhuman even by _his_ standards. Having an entire army of them backing him up would definitely go a long way to balancing the odds they were up against. As for Lime himself... well, he could deal with that later.

"Hey, Ryouga!"

The lost boy turned, and saw Ranma heading through the crowd toward him. Surprisingly, his rival was carrying the Gekkaja, of all things, a weapon Ryouga had not particularly expected to see again. "Ranma!" he called out, grateful for the distraction from the bone Lime had to pick with him. "What are you doing with _that?_ Don't tell me the Phoenix are actually letting you use it?"

"Yeah, I was surprised too," answered Ranma, giving an experimental twirl to the magical weapon. "But it'll definitely come in handy. Heh, too bad they don't have one free for you to use."

Ryouga shrugged, then reached over to Katsunishiki and pulled his red umbrella off the pig's back. He spun it once, then let it drop tip-first to the ground with a thunderous crash, its enormous weight causing the ground to crack around it as he rested his hand casually on the hilt. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll manage."

* * *

Akane jogged to a stop, her jaw dropping a little in spite of herself. Cologne had briefly described what to expect in her phone call to the Tendo dojo, and she had thought herself prepared, but actually seeing the sheer scale of the force gathering around the Nekohanten brought her up short.

_This is really it..._ she thought, anticipation and fear twisting around each other in her chest. _A battle for the entire planet. It's all come down to this._

On either side of her, she could feel her father and Mr. Saotome fidgeting. They were doubtless thinking similar thoughts, although from the expressions on their faces, the emotions they were experiencing were more along the lines of pure fear. Nevertheless, they followed along as the trio made their way toward the rendezvous.

"Akane! Over here!"

The voice was Ukyo's. Turning, Akane saw the okonomiyaki chef waving at her. She and the fathers adjusted their course, and soon joined a group of other fighters gathered from their own circle.

Since Ukyo was there, Konatsu, of course, was there as well. The male kunoichi was wearing his katana at his side, and he stood behind his employer and unrequited love interest, watching her anxiously. Ryouga was there as well, talking quietly with Akari off to the side. Behind them stood Mousse, who—without his glasses on—was confessing his passionate, undying love to Akari's sumo pig.

Shampoo, also nearby, was completely ignoring him in favor of keeping a wary eye on the poisoner twins, Pink and Link. The two of them, for their part, had wandered over to the Nerima group and were chatting animatedly with Kodachi, occasionally showing each other various powders or chemicals to illustrate a point. And over there...

Akane blinked. "Wait, is that really... oh, what was his name? From the Martial Arts Tea Ceremony school?"

She said it mostly to herself, but Ukyo picked up on it all the same. "Daimonji Sentaro?" she asked. "That's what he told us his name was, anyway. Apparently he owes Ranchan a favor or something."

"...you could say that," agreed Akane. Indeed, the entire Daimonji family was present: Sentaro's grandmother, his bride, and even their pet monkey Sanae. And now that she looked, she could see even more familiar faces. Konjo Mariko was there, hanging on the arm of a disinterested Kuno. Even Hyato Myojin was standing off at a distance, cooking up his trademark takoyaki and selling it off to a crowd of warriors from the various tribes.

"Wow..." murmured Akane. "Ranma really is calling in everyone he can think of, isn't he?"

"What of Saotome?" demanded Kuno, who had made a beeline for Akane the moment he had caught sight of her, to Mariko's pouting dismay. "I know not what _he_ has to do with this venture, but it was an old woman who informed me that I could display my might to the pigtailed girl by assisting in this glorious battle!"

"It was the same for this unworthy one," spoke up Sentaro as well. "Though I came to repay my debt to Ranma for uniting me with my beloved—" He gestured toward his wife, who blushed demurely. "—it was a strange old woman who informed us of his need. And, indeed, of the danger we are all in."

Others also nodded, surprising Akane. So this was all Cologne's doing? Just how much research had she done in preparation for this moment? "Wow..." the Tendo girl said. "I wonder who _else_ might be coming?"

Ukyo frowned in thought. "Well, let's see... I overheard that Cologne was hoping to get some guy called Kumon Ryu to join," she offered. "But apparently he dropped off the face of the earth a while back, and no one knows where he is now. Something about retraining himself."

That was another name Akane hadn't thought of in a while. "That's too bad. He really was strong." Then another thought struck her. "But if we want someone really strong, then what about... Happousai?"

"Is no good," interjected Shampoo. Both Akane and Ukyo turned at the words, the hackles on the backs of their necks rising as the young Joketsuzoku warrior strolled over to join their conversation. She moved with her usual effortless grace, making Akane feel clumsy just by standing next to her. "Great-grandmother put foot down. She say even old pervert strength not worth what might happen to battle plan if he there."

It was, Akane had to grudgingly admit, probably true. The old lecher was an embodiment of the worst kind of chaos, completely uncontrollable. There was no telling which way his lunatic whims might carry him at any given moment—and with someone as powerful as he was, that instability could be a terrible double-edged sword. "All right, then what about Pantyhose Taro?" she asked. "If you're looking for someone more controllable, he's... not quite as bad."

Shampoo sniffed. "Shampoo track _him_ down in China two weeks ago. He no believe what Shampoo is telling him about Dark Kingdom. He say it all just stupid old legends. Just distraction from new plan for getting name changed." Then the Chinese girl shrugged. "Also, he not be working well with Airen anyway."

"I suppose not..." said Akane reluctantly. But the last sentence had reminded her of another question that needed answering. "Where _is_ Ranma?"

Ryouga glanced up. "I think he said he was going back into the Nekohanten to talk to one of the elders about something," he said helpfully, while pointing with his finger directly _away_ from the Nekohanten and out toward the street. "You should be able to find him in there."

Smiling and thanking him politely, Akane proceeded to follow the spirit of his advice, if not the letter of his directions. She made her way through the crowd and into the building beyond, glancing back and forth for any sign of her fiancé. It took a few minutes, but eventually she found him on the second floor, leaning over a table, talking to Kiima, of all people. They were both gesturing at a map on the table between them, both clearly very into their discussion.

"...yeah, yeah, I see what you're saying," Akane heard him say as she drew nearer. "Okay, that makes sense. Then as soon as we get out of the tunnels, you guys can—" His voice broke off as he glanced over at his approaching fiancée. "Akane? What're _you_ doing here?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled. "Cologne called me, just like the others."

"Cologne called you here?" A frown fell over Ranma's face. Then something else registered. "Wait... others? _What_ others?"

Without even waiting for an answer, Ranma ran over to a nearby window looking out across the crowd below. After a few seconds he let out a short hiss of breath and swore feelingly. When he turned back around, his expression had darkened. "Where's Cologne?" he demanded, tight anger in his voice. "I gotta talk to her."

* * *

Ranma stormed down the Nekohanten stairs, and quickly caught sight of the person he was looking for. "Old ghoul!" he barked.

At his words, Cologne paused in the conversation she was having with Soap and Loofah. "Please excuse me a moment," she said, then turned to face Ranma, her expression impassive. "Son-in-law. Walk with me."

His first impulse was to have it out with the old woman right then and there, but he bit his tongue and followed a step behind her as she hopped along on her cane. They left the building, moving through the crowd in tense silence until they had gone far enough away from the army that they were alone. At last Cologne spoke. "I assume this is about the Tendo girl?"

"It's about all of them!" Ranma shouted back. "Damn it, what were you thinking? Kodachi? _Sentaro?_ And... and yes, Akane? They're not good enough to survive a fight like this is gonna be!"

"Nothing is certain in war," replied Cologne. "And they are stronger than you give them credit for. But... yes. Their survival is by no means assured. Or even likely."

"Then what the hell did you call them for?" Ranma snapped. "We've got plenty of guys already. Why involve them?"

"Because we will get exactly one chance at this, son-in-law," Cologne answered quietly. "One single chance. For the lives of everyone you ever loved. For the lives of everyone you ever knew. This is not the time for restraint. Even if the weaker fighters kill only one youma before they die, even if they only divert the enemy's fire for a few moments, I will use that. I will spend their lives like water, if by doing so I can throw the smallest grains of dust onto the balance of this conflict."

"Even if it means sacrificing—"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in Cologne's reply, her gaze cold and utterly unyielding. "Even if it means sacrificing Kodachi. Or Sentaro. Or Akane. Or you. Or myself." There was a slight pause, and Ranma heard the old woman's voice catch on what she said next. "Or even my great-granddaughter."

Silence fell between them. Eventually, Cologne spoke up again. "You should be able to understand, if you allow yourself to," she said. "After all, wouldn't _you_ be willing to give your life for them? For your Akane?"

The pigtailed fighter shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Well, sure, but... that's _me_. For her to do it is—"

"—not your decision to make, son-in-law," finished the ancient master, not unkindly. "Not for her. Not for any of them. They all have their own loved ones in whose defense they have come to fight and die, and to deny them that is just as much a dishonor to them as it would be to you."

Ranma turned away, closing his eyes, his face twisting into a grimace as he wrestled with Cologne's words. At length he spoke. "I... don't like it."

The old master snorted. "I would be worried if you did," she told him dryly. "Make no mistake, son-in-law, it is a terrible business we are beginning today. This will not be the kind of 'fight' you are familiar with—not anymore. From now on, this will be _war_. And it is a war we must win at any cost."

* * *

The day dragged on, hour after hour kept passing into the next. The army trained tirelessly for the upcoming assault, familiarizing themselves with the tactics expected of them, as well as with the other members of their disparate groups. Ranma, with his natural confidence and charisma, had assumed de facto leadership of the Nerima contingent, though not without the grumbling of some of his enemies in it.

Ryouga, for his part, simply threw himself into his work. He didn't really have much problem following Ranma's lead—not anymore, at least. He'd certainly done it enough times on their other escapades, the clash with the Phoenix People most recently. No, any worries about being subordinate to his rival were a very distant second to his worries about the battle to come.

He ran down the street in a blur of speed, launching himself at the three muscular, tattooed warriors in front of him. They rushed ahead to meet him with wild battle cries, lashing out with their fists and feet, but he didn't waste any time with them. He made a diving roll underneath the kick of the fastest of the trio, then swerved past the second-fastest, taking advantage of the large gaps in their uncoordinated approach.

The third man swung his fist at the lost boy, but Ryouga leapt clear over him, stomping on his head on the way over and knocking him to his knees. As he flew past them, two more members of their army came into view: two young women, each of whom was forming a ball of glowing energy between their palms.

The pair tried frantically to backpedal at the sight of him, but he landed right in front of them before they could. Both his fists shot out, stopping less than an inch in front of each of their faces.

Behind him, he heard the pounding footfalls and angry battle-cries of the tattooed warriors, as they came at him once again. He turned to face them, but their conflict was interrupted by an angry cry of "Enough!"

A moment later, the shrunken form of Meihui—commander of their third of the overall army—stalked in between the warriors and Ryouga. "Once again you have failed," she snapped. "Is it too much to ask for you to hold ranks and attack a target _together_, rather than each one charging off on their own?"

The tattooed warriors glared resentfully at the ancient mystic. "You ask us to wage war in ways that are not ours!" one shot back. "This is not Lao Shihong's way of fighting!"

"It will be Lao Shihong's way of _dying_ if you try to fight enemies as powerful as the youma this way," was Meihui's acidic response. "If all three of you had kept your formation—had worked as a team—you _might_ have been able to buy these girls enough time to cast their combined Mogui Feng and stop your opponent. As it is, all five of you have died. Again."

"_We_ have not yet been defeated!" protested one of the remaining warriors. "Don't group us with your weak little sorceresses. The three of us still could have—"

He was cut off by a harsh guffaw from the old master. "You truly think so?" she asked, disbelievingly. "Very well. We will run the exercise again." She turned to Ryouga. "This time, boy, give them a taste of some real pain. It may be the only thing that can get through their thick skulls."

That was a request Ryouga would have little trouble granting. Cracking his knuckles, he favored his training partners with a fanged smile that made them pale a little. "My pleasure."

The next half hour was more or less a continuous stretch of Ryouga pounding them into the ground. Whenever it started to get a bit boring he stole glances around at the other groups, performing similar exercises. He saw Mousse out of the corner of his eye, performing ground-to-air dodging drills with a group of the Phoenix People. The glasses-wearing boy's arms were blurring as he hurled up a constant stream of blunted weapons, which the winged warriors had to avoid.

Eventually, Meihui decided that Ryouga's group had done as much as was profitable for the moment, and told them to take a break before someone ended up truly out of commission. The other fighters quickly staggered off, trying to retain some scraps of their dignity.

It hadn't been a particularly draining workout for the lost boy, however, and after a few moments' thought he strolled off in search of Beneda. He had heard that she had come back from China with the Joketsuzoku, but their paths hadn't crossed yet and he really wanted to catch up with her in person.

But he had hardly gone far at all before he felt a hand clamp onto his collar from behind, dragging him backward. "What do you think you're _doing_, moron?" came Ranma's exasperated voice. "Wandering off by yourself? This ain't the time to be making trips to Kyoto!"

Ryogua opened his mouth to make an angry retort to his rival, but he could think of nothing to say—Ranma was right, of course—and so he had to settle for a muttered "...shut up."

Ranma sighed. "Look, just stick with me for a while, all right? I need to find my pop and see if he can take over working with the Phoenix guys I was trying to whip into shape so I can talk to Cologne for a bit about some ideas I had. Then I'll take you wherever it is you're trying to go."

The lost boy shrugged. "Fine, whatever."

Both of them walked in silence for a while, threading between group upon group of training warriors, spread out everywhere. Eventually, Ranma spoke up again. "Heh. Can you imagine the expressions those Sailor girls will have when we tell them what was _really_ going on back when we were fighting them? And then when we tell them that we went ahead and smashed the Dark Kingdom army for them? Bet their eyes are gonna pop right out of their sockets."

Ryouga cracked a small grin at the thought. Left unspoken was the silent _"...if we actually win..."_ even though both boys knew full well the qualification was there.

They walked on for a little while longer. "Hey," Ranma said suddenly. "Meihui was training your group for a while, wasn't she? Did you... notice anything suspicious while she was working with you?"

The lost boy frowned, puzzled. "Suspicious? No, not really. She's tough as nails—all the good teachers are—but I didn't notice anything that made me worry. What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Ranma shook his head. "Just... there's some bad blood between her and Cologne, and if it boils over it could be bad. _Really_ bad. So keep an eye out, okay?"

Ryouga shrugged. "If you say so."

By this time they had reached the Nekohanten, and the two of them ducked inside. "Where _is_ your father, anyway?" asked the lost boy.

Ranma glanced around, a small frown crossing his face as they went from room to room in their search. "He should be right around here, somewhere. He and Mr. Tendo said they were going in to get something to eat before they..." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of a small white envelope lying on one of the restaurant tables, with Ranma's name scrawled across it.

The pigtailed fighter snatched it up and ripped it open. Unfolding its contents, he began to read the note aloud, disbelief and anger warring across his face. "Son," he read. "Tendo and I have just remembered a very important training trip that we need to go on right away. It's a very special anniversary, of something that absolutely can't be missed. Don't worry; I'm sure all of you can handle this fight just fine without us needing to—" Ranma broke off in mid-sentence, his hand convulsing into a fist and crushing the paper he was holding.

Ryouga sighed. It certainly would have been nice to have had fighters of their skill level backing them up, but even based on his own limited experience with the two men this was utterly unsurprising. "Well, I guess that answers that question," he said, rolling his eyes. "Should we tell Meihui that they're going to be..."

But then the lost boy's voice trailed off, realizing that Ranma was barely even listening to him. His rival's eyes were still staring down and the crumpled letter, clutched so tightly that his knuckles were white. "Damn it, pop..." Ryouga heard him whisper. "The whole world. The _whole damn world_..."

And with a start, Ryogua realized that—even though Ranma had far, far more experience with Genma's personality than he did—the pigtailed boy had been caught off-guard by his father's flight. Despite everything, despite all the countless reasons to expect otherwise, Ranma had wanted to believe that this time, _this_ time, his father would finally do the courageous thing.

They stood there for a long while in strained, uncomfortable silence, Ranma not speaking, and Ryouga not sure what he should say. Then at last Ranma looked over at the lost boy. "Listen. We don't tell Akane about this, all right? If she asks, we just tell her that her dad is off... I don't know. Doing some scouting, or looking for more reinforcements or... something."

Ryouga nodded once. There was no need to burden her with the same disappointment that Ranma was feeling. With a burst of Amaguriken speed Ranma shredded the letter into tiny pieces, then let them stream away, fluttering down to the floor like falling snowflakes.

Then he let out a disgusted sigh. "Come on," he said to Ryouga. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Off in Adachi ward, far away from both Nerima and Juuban, Genma shrugged the large backpack from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground as he leaned against the wall of a nearby building. The heavyset man let out a deep breath, staring up at the clouded, foreboding sky, then closed his eyes.

"Saotome?"

The sound of his friend's voice caused Genma to look over to where Soun stood. The long-haired man looked uncomfortable, fidgeting a bit as he stood. "I'm just... resting a bit," Genma told him. "We can get moving again in a second or two."

There was a long pause. Then Soun spoke again, hesitantly. "Do you think... we should go back?"

The question caused something in Genma's chest to constrict. But unfortunately, his con-artist's mouth was already answering before the rest of him even had a chance to weigh in, regurgitating the same excuses that he had spent hours convincing himself of prior to leaving.

"Now really, Tendo," he said. "What good would that do? You saw the army they had. You saw how many grandmasters were there. With that much power, it's not like the two of _us_ would tip things one way or the other. So that means there's no reason for us to risk our lives."

"Right," Soun agreed, nodding. He was clearly trying to convince himself just as hard as Genma was, though he didn't have Genma's experience at hiding it. "No reason at all."

"And they have my boy with them!" continued Genma, picking up steam. It helped to say these things out loud. It made them feel more believable. "Think about it, Tendo—have you even seen him lose? I mean, when it _really_ mattered? It'll be fine; there's no reason to worry."

_Yes,_ Genma thought, _this is the best course of action._ Ranma would handle the heroics. He always did. All Genma needed to do was survive—the way _he_ always did. And by doing this, he would keep Soun alive in the bargain! That had to count for something, right?

It was all so terribly easy to believe. It was his entire way of life—one he had grown so accustomed to in his long years under his monstrous master. That he was currently fleeing a newer, far more terrible monster mattered little in the end. It all came down to the same thing.

Shouldering his pack again, Genma walked onward, his old friend following in his wake. It was pointless to worry, he kept assuring himself. They would come back in a week or two, and this whole business would have blown over. Of course, Ranma would be angry, disappointed... but it would hardly be the first time.

His son's disappointment was also something to which Genma had long since grown accustomed.

* * *

The army continued to train, the tumultuous sounds of their mock combat reaching even to the area set apart for the healers of the various groups to undertake their own preparations. The drills those medics ran were less violent, but no less strenuous, as they practiced the various aspects of battlefield medicine: triage, field dressing, quickly moving bodies back from the front lines, and much more.

Beneda ran an arm across her forehead, wiping it clean of sweat, then took a long drink from the bottle of water that Doctor Tofu had given her earlier. She swallowed the cold liquid, feeling it run down her throat, and once again marveled at the unique sensation that was human taste. Even spending months straight primarily in her human form had done little to diminish the novelty.

Water was the same substance, of course, no matter what form she was in. And yet it _wasn't_. As a youma, water was a liquid like any other, mostly uninteresting except for the fact that there was so much of it in the human world. But as a human, water was a precious necessity for life, something this body knew and longed for.

So what did that make her? A creature who lived in both bodies? A creature who stood between two worlds? She certainly wasn't a human, but after living for so long as one... could she really call herself a youma anymore, either? In this conflict, at least, she certainly wasn't standing with her people... and it surprised her how unsettling that thought was.

Why _should_ her new allegiance trouble her? She had never had a particularly strong sense of patriotism toward Beryl's rule to begin with, even before she had defected. Beneda's service had been more out of self-interest and self-preservation than any idealistic commitment to her queen's goals.

But things were very different now. Her time in Nerima had taught her so many new things, showed her so many new ways of looking at the world. She had experienced the power of compassion, discovered the reasons for sacrifice, and felt the bond between friends.

Yet now they were hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the rest of Beryl's youma. Youma who saw the world just like she had seen it... and like she would _still_ see it, had it not been for the quirk of fate that had crossed her path with Ryouga's.

She gave a humorless half-smile at the irony. When she had served the Dark Kingdom, she would have been willing to stab most of her fellow youma in the back without a second thought. But now that she had betrayed them, the very qualities she had learned while doing so had given her more sympathy for her fellow youma than she had ever had while actually on their side.

_"Beneda!"_

The youma whirled around at the familiar voice, her face lighting up. Her previous worries vanished at the sight of the two martial artists who were approaching. "Ranma! Ryouga!" she called out, rushing over to wrap both boys in a tight hug, which they each returned.

"It's good to see you again, Beneda," Ryogua told her. "How was your trip to China? Are you all right? Some of the Joketsuzoku mentioned that you had some... trouble... with Kiima?"

Beneda could guess from his tone that things would probably not go well for Kiima if Ryouga realized just how close the winged warrior had come to killing her. So, in the interests of preventing strife between allies, she fibbed. "Trouble? No, we just sparred for a bit. Nothing too bad. She was just trying to get a feel for how strong I was, I think."

A smile of relief crossed the lost boy's face. "Oh, I see. That's good. I'm glad to hear it wasn't anything serious." Beneda hid a small, affectionate smile of her own; Ryouga was—as always—absolutely terrible at detecting when people were being less than honest with him.

Ranma, for his part, was looking at her with a bit more suspicion, but when he spoke it didn't show in what he said. "Well, sparring or not, I hear it was a close fight," he said. "That's pretty impressive! She's no slouch to go up against." Beneda gave him a look of thanks for not pressing the issue.

And really, _this_ was the answer to the worries she had had earlier. Was she youma, human or something in-between? She didn't exactly know anymore... but it didn't matter. She _did_ know that she had friends now, friends who cared deeply about her. Whatever she was.

This was her home. Her family. And no matter what, she was not going to stand idly by while the Dark Kingdom hurt them.

She just hoped that somehow—when this was all over and Metallia was dealt with—her fellow youma could somehow be shown the way of life that she had discovered in her time here.

* * *

The afternoon passed into evening, and the evening into night. Ranma and Ryouga, along with the rest of the Nerima fighters, kept on working with the less-powerful fighters in their overall battle group, drilling them over and over. Eventually, though, a final halt was called. Ranma had to admit that they were improving, the different tribes fighting better as a team than they had at the beginning.

Would it be enough? That, he didn't know.

The pigtailed fighter walked restlessly through the darkened streets, glancing back and forth at the few straggling members of the army still moving back and forth. Most of the rest had dispersed, finding places here and there to hole up and sleep, resting in preparation for tomorrow's battle.

Farther down the street, he caught sight of Ryouga's distant figure. He was talking with Akari, though of course Ranma could not make out the words. The girl was looking up at him with an anxious expression, while wringing her hands. As Ranma watched, Ryouga hesitantly took her hands in his own and said a few more words, his face pained, his manner halting.

Suddenly Akari flung her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. The lost boy's body went rigid, but after a few moments he responded by wrapping his arms around her as well—slowly, gently, as though she were made of glass. They stood there, silently holding onto each other, and eventually Ranma turned away. He was even more troubled than before, uncertainties eating away at him that he couldn't even identify, much less deal with.

He moved onward, hands jammed into his pockets, with only his brooding thoughts for company. Memories played unbidden through his mind, memories of the failed wedding, memories of his battle at Jusendo.

Memories of holding Akane's lifeless body in his arms...

The pigtailed warrior exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment in a futile attempt to shut out the remembrance. _What on earth am I doing?_ he wondered. _And what on earth am I supposed to be doing? Right now I don't even have a clue._

His meandering walk continued, lost in thought, until finally he found himself back at the Tendo dojo. He pushed his way through the main gate, then stopped in his tracks. Akane was there, sitting in the doorway, waiting.

She glanced up as the gate opened, looking him in the eye. "Hey," she said quietly.

Ranma licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry. A thousand things to say shot through his mind in an instant. A thousand things that he had wanted to say to this girl, a thousand things he was terrified of saying. They all jammed together in his brain and in his throat, in a half-second of strained silence. The only thing that escaped in the end was a matching "...hey."

Akane rose to her feet. "I'm glad you're back," she told him. "I just got back not too long ago myself. I spent some time looking around, trying to find where my dad was."

"Er... Oh yeah!" Ranma said, scrambling for an excuse. "Mr. Tendo, he's... uh... gone out to look for more reinforcements! Y'know, other martial artists who could help us! I... don't know when he'll be back..."

His fiancée looked at him for a moment, then gave a sad little look. "When I asked Ryouga, _he_ said that dad had joined the scouting teams. To make sure there were no youma in the area."

"Oh. Um, well..." Ranma's voice trailed off. He could tell she knew. Probably she had already known, even before he had said anything. She knew her father.

The Tendo heiress blinked a few times, then ran her arm angrily across her eyes. Ranma looked at his fiancée, stared at her, completely unable to put what he was feeling into words. But he had to say something.

He clenched his fists, struggling to do the one thing he had never been able to do. Eventually, he managed to force something out. "Akane, I..." he began, then forced all of his pent-up emotion into one single statement. "I don't want you to come on this!"

It wasn't what he had wanted to say, and certainly not what he should have said. Just a pale mockery of it, one that he mentally kicked himself for immediately after voicing. But to his surprise, Akane only nodded. "I know," she said. "But this is too important. You understand, right?"

Ranma managed a single, curt nod. The movement felt as though it wrenched his body all the way down to his heart, but he nodded.

They stood there in awkward silence for a while longer. At last, Akane turned to go back into the house. "Well..." she told him. "We really ought to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, Ranma."

The pigtailed fighter opened his mouth to say something—anything. This couldn't be what she had been hoping for, what she had been waiting here for. But he could only watch as she walked back into the house, the door shutting behind her with a solid _thud_. And with that he was left standing there, alone in the silence and the darkness, with all the unspoken words collecting in his chest like lead weights.

It shouldn't have been so troubling an experience for him. This was how all such conversations between them had always ended: each of them avoiding what neither of them could bring themselves to discuss. There was nothing different about this time.

Nothing different at all.

* * *

Later that night, the jangling of the Nekohanten's telephone woke Cologne from a troubled sleep. She picked up her cane, and before the third ring she had hopped over and answered. "Yes? What is it?"

"Elder Cologne, this is Balm!" The old master immediately recognized the frantic voice on the other end as one of the Joketsuzoku guards stationed in the building across the street from the Dark Kingdom portal, to keep an eye on their enemy's movements. "Something strange is happening here! A group of girls just went into the café you told us to watch!"

Any lingering traces of sleep were abruptly banished from Cologne's mind. "Girls?" she demanded. "How old? And how many?"

"Five of them, elder, in their early, teens! I didn't recognize any of them. They weren't disguised youma—at least not that we'd seen before. And they had two cats with them!"

The ancient master let out a hiss of breath. It was them! It had to be! They had somehow found the location of the portal all on their own, and were going through it!

"Those were the Sailor Senshi!" she snapped. "Stop them! I'll be there in ten minutes!" Without waiting for a reply, she slammed the phone back down and vanished into a blur of speed, rocketing toward Juuban at speeds the eye could barely follow.

The possibilities and counter-possibilities waged war in the old woman's head all throughout her desperate run, weighing the danger to the Senshi against the danger of revealing themselves to the Dark Kingdom prematurely. Whatever happened, she couldn't allow them to face the challenge alone, but how best to intervene now that it had come to this?

She reached her destination seven minutes later, panting and out of breath, to see Balm awaiting her on the rooftop. "Elder!" she called out quietly. "I... I was too late. By the time I got down to the café, they were gone. No trace of them anywhere."

Cologne closed her eyes, and nodded. As she had feared, they had gone through to make their own attack. "Send word back to the rest of the army to mobilize," she said. "Meihui should be able to figure out how to open the portal when they arrive. I'm going to go through immediately to see if I can help—"

But her words were cut off as Balm's eyes widened, and she pointed down to the street. "Elder, look!"

Emerging from the small café were five colorfully-dressed girls. Two of them—both blonde—were each carrying a cat in their arms. They all looked considerably worse for the wear, tired, limping, their uniforms slashed in various places. But they were all alive.

"Are... those the same girls...?" Balm murmured. "They don't look anything like—"

"Disguise magic," was Cologne's brief reply. She let out a long breath of relief. There would be no need to rush the plan after all, no need to risk revealing themselves too soon.

She turned back to Balm. "From now on, keep up your watch with particular care. If those girls you saw tonight—in either form—come back here for a second try before we're ready to move tomorrow night, warn them to stop. If necessary, you have my permission to divulge information about our plans in order to convince them."

Then a wry smile crossed Cologne's face. "But even then, tell them as little as possible. If they suspect our connection to the 'Dark Lords of Nerima', or our participation in the battle that took place six months ago, it could create... unnecessary incidents... at a time when it is crucial that we keep a low profile."

Balm nodded. "Understood, Elder," she replied, with a grin of her own. "Our villainous escapades will remain a secret."

* * *

The next morning the army continued its training, but where the previous day had been an intensive regimen to acclimate the different tribes to fighting together, this was a much more restrained affair, little more than warm-ups. Everyone was conserving their strength for the battle that was to come.

As night fell once more, the invasion force assembled in the streets outside the Nekohanten. A muted hush hung over the scene, a feeling of stifling tension. As they all watched, Cologne leaped up to stand atop her restaurant, looking down from her vantage point, her gaze sweeping across the huge gathering of warriors spread out before her.

Then she spoke, her voice cracking out with an astonishing force that belied her tiny frame. "Countless millennia ago," she shouted, "the people of this world joined with an evil demoness, to attack a civilization that had only ever defended us and sought our best interest. Our forefathers helped her massacre them, killing them to the last man, woman and child."

"Now we, their descendants, stand at a crossroad. That same demoness is returning once again. And we are faced with a choice. Will we cower like beaten dogs before her strength? Will we prostrate ourselves before her in hope of being spared—as our ancestors did so long ago? Or will we stand and fight? To the last warrior, to the last breath, to let that accursed fiend know that _this time_ she will not find humanity so easy a plaything?"

The old woman's eyes blazed, her battle aura flaring so high that it sent shivers through everyone watching. "Tonight, we match our strength against the greatest enemy any of us have ever faced! Tonight, we take the fires of war to the gates of the Dark Kingdom! Tonight, we strike for the future of our world!"

Cologne took her cane, then thrust it straight upward toward the sky. _"For Earth!"_ she cried out.

Below her, the sound rose up of hundreds upon hundreds of weapons being drawn simultaneously. Swords, maces, bows, spears, fists, all shot up toward the sky in response, along with a deafening cry that rattled the surrounding windows. _**"FOR EARTH!"**_

Then, with a swift motion, the ancient master swung her cane to point in the direction of Juuban. As one, the army below exploded up into the air, the mass of warriors sweeping out across the rooftops toward the confrontation awaiting them.

* * *

Elsewhere in the city, other hearts were preparing themselves for battle. It was a more subdued preparation, but a preparation nonetheless. They readied themselves, knowing the stakes should their enemies win. And, just like the Nerima army, they set out that night to do their duty for the world they loved.

In the moonlit night, five girls converged on the Hikawa shrine.


	3. Assault

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ranma 1/2 or Sailor Moon in any way, shape or form. All associated characters, trademarks, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takahashi and Naoko Takeuchi. I'm just telling some stories about them.

**Author's Note:** Really sorry for the long delay on this one. A lot of "life stuff" came up, and plus this is a chapter I really wanted to get right, so I spent a long time working on it. After this, there's only one more chapter left in this interlude... and then everything will finally be in place for the sequel to start!

Anyway, really hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Three: Assault

Ranma leapt through the night air, the tops of buildings shooting past in blurs beneath him as he hopped from one roof to the next in time with the army around him. Well over a thousand martial artists, a shifting sea of color and movement, all hurtling toward Juuban with one single purpose, one single target.

The pigtailed fighter's speed kept him near the forefront of their force, and so he was one of the first to see their destination. Putting on an extra burst of velocity, he launched himself earthward, ricocheting off a wall before landing in front of a small café with a sign proclaiming it to be called "La Crepe."

The rest of the army was falling into position as well, filling the streets and rooftops behind him. Ranma ignored them, following Cologne as she hopped on her cane toward the building. She didn't so much as pause at the doors, hitting them with a swift strike that smashed them inward. The two of them continued inside, moving past the empty tables and chairs to the far side of the room. "Here," she announced.

It didn't look like much to Ranma, just a blank wall, but he kept silent and watched. Cologne ran her thin, wrinkled fingers along the plaster, then turned back toward their forces. The other clan leaders had entered by then, and she addressed them all. "Have your warriors order themselves, and be ready to go through with all possible speed. I do not know for certain how long I will be able to hold the portal open."

The orders were relayed back out, and soon a line began to form. The Musk were going through first, with the other tribes following in the sequence that had been decided during the war council. Cologne, for her part, was preparing to force their entry. She had drawn numerous chalk symbols in a full circle around her, and another, smaller circle on the wall they were facing. Her brow was furrowed in intense concentration, focusing on her task.

Suddenly, Ranma felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that, even as Cologne was gazing intently at her preparations... Meihui was gazing intently at her.

The pigtailed fighter swallowed. He didn't know much about this magic stuff, but if Cologne's current level of concentration was any indication, he was willing to bet that it would leave her vulnerable while she was casting it.

If Meihui decided to take advantage of the opening...

Slowly, trying his best to be inconspicuous about it, Ranma moved closer to Cologne. He stood behind her, covering her blind spot, his every sense alert. "Hey, old ghoul," he murmured. "Mind if I stick around and watch while you do this?"

Cologne looked back up at him, a wry half-smile flitting across her face, and Ranma wondered if she knew what his worries were. "If you wish, son-in-law," she told him.

Then she turned back to the wall. "Stand ready!" she called out, her voice cracking like a whip. "We begin!"

The line of warriors crouched in preparation. Taking a deep breath, Cologne raised her cane and slammed the tip into the wall, directly in the center of the circle drawn there. The old woman's life energy flowed down the wood, the symbols lighting up with an ethereal glow. Immediately to the right of that point, a dark, circular portal appeared in the wall, about wide enough to fit four people abreast.

_"Go!"_ shouted Cologne. And with that, the waiting martial artists burst into motion, shooting through the gate in blurs of speed.

* * *

"Your majesty!"

The youma's panicked voice echoed through the chamber of Queen Beryl's throne room, causing murmurs to ripple through the huge crowd of youma that made up her court. A path opened through the assembled monsters, allowing the shouter to race up and kneel before the red-haired monarch. The youma's skin was a pale, pasty white, and her eyes were blindfolded by strips of cloth covered in countless arcane sigils.

"We are under attack, my queen!" the monster blurted, panting for breath. "My wards have been tripped! Just a few moments ago the Juuban portal to the human world was forcibly opened!"

Beryl's lip twisted in anger. "The Sailor Senshi again?" Without waiting for a reply, she waved her hand over the crystal ball on the top of her staff, reaching out with her will toward the source of the breach.

Her eyes widened at what she saw. This was _not_ the Sailor Senshi. This was not any foe she had ever encountered. Strange, bestial warriors were pouring through the portal in a long stream, filling the chamber beyond. None of the youma sentries were anywhere to be seen, doubtless already killed.

The queen's mind whirled. Who in all the hells _were_ these assailants? How had they even known of this place? What unheard-of enemy dared challenge her in her own domain?

She shifted the focus of her scrying to the human world, outside the portal. There was an old woman there, using a spell to hold the dimensional gate open as the stream of warriors coursed through. _She thinks she can match the Dark Kingdom in sorcery?_ Beryl thought contemptuously. _I will end this here and now._

"Muster the army," the queen ordered in a short, clipped tone. "It will be useful for wiping out the stragglers that have already passed through." Then, leaving such details to her subordinates, Beryl focused her will into her crystal ball.

In holding the portal open as she was, this amateur mage had connected herself to the spells that the queen herself had laid there. And such connections could be used both ways. It would be inefficient... but to stop this invasion cold it would be more than enough.

* * *

It wasn't even a full minute into their attack when everything started to go to hell.

The Musk had gotten all of their fighters through the portal, and the Silk Lotus tribe—next in line—were starting to enter as well. Nervous energy danced through Ranma's body as he watched, but so far everything was going according to plan.

Then, without warning, a wave of nausea slammed into him, a feeling of corrupted power that made the bile rise up in his throat. He whirled, to see tendrils of black magic writhing around the edges of the portal, snaking their way toward where Cologne's cane touched the wall. The instant they touched the weapon they began to wind up its length. The elder focused harder, projecting more of her life energy into the wood to hold back the sudden onslaught. But it was too powerful, and she only managed to slow it slightly.

In seconds, the vile magic reached Cologne's hand. The ancient master let out a hiss of pain as the tendrils stabbed into her skin, burrowing into her wrist, blackening the flesh at the point of entry. The corruption continued to fight its way up her arm, forcing its way past Cologne's straining defense. Ranma's eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out a counter to what was happening to the old woman, but he could think of nothing.

"Stay back, son-in-law!" Cologne snapped, as the corruption reached her shoulder. Sweat was pouring down her face, and her arm was trembling. "This is... not something you can assist against. It will only infect you too!"

The pigtailed fighter licked his lips. He was fully aware of how meager his knowledge was on such magical matters, but he couldn't just stand by while this spell ate Cologne alive. He looked back at the portal, and saw that the Silk Lotus were still charging through it. They hadn't gotten even a _fourth_ of their army to the other side yet!

Ranma spun back to Cologne, and saw that the old woman was down on one knee. Her breath was coming in strained wheezes, but she still held her cane to the wall, holding the portal open. The corruption had spread to her chest, its tendrils reaching toward her heart.

She was fighting tooth and nail, her face contorted in an expression of agony. Lifting her head, she screamed something defiant in Chinese at the portal, punctuated by an extra flare of her battle aura. She was pouring out everything she had, every last remnant of her strength. But it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

_There's no way she'll be able to make it!_ thought Ranma. He might not know much about magic, but he had to try _something_. The pigtailed fighter took one more look at the spell, trying to get a sense of how Cologne's ki was fighting it. Then he gathered his own battle aura to one hand in a wild-guess attempt to do the same. He reached down for Cologne's cane—

—when a tiny blur shot between them, and a small hand slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward. Meihui landed next to Cologne, raised her hand, and clamped it down on the cane, adding her life energy to the struggle.

The corruption wavered, some of its strength diverted to attack Meihui. It began to work its way up her arm as well, but its pace had been slowed. Cologne looked up, newfound determination entering her eyes as the two masters pitted their combined strength against their enemy.

Meihui lifted her free hand to her mouth, and bit down hard on her thumb. Blood flowed from the wound, and the ancient mage began to move with blinding speed, using that blood to write a sequence of intricate symbols down the length of Cologne's cane. When finished, the symbols burst into blinding crimson light, and the corruption's pace slowed even more.

Ranma turned back to the stream of warriors, and saw that it was now the Joketsuzoku that were charging through. He watched, fists clenched, as warrior after warrior blurred past, one tribe changing into another. The dark spell continued to spread through the bodies of the two masters, but they held on together, without faltering.

Finally, the last warrior leapt through the portal, and Ranma whirled back to Cologne and Meihui. "All right, you're clear!" he told them. "Now how do we get you out of this?"

With an effort, Cologne raised her head to look Ranma in the eye, a small smile on her face. "I am afraid... that is not an option, son-in-law..." she forced out. The dark magic had ravaged her entire body, her face, her limbs, her chest, and Meihui wasn't much better off. "Go. While there is still time."

"No!" Ranma shouted. "There's still... There's gotta be some way I can..."

"Not this time, son-in-law." Cologne shook her head. "I am... not the one who needs your help now. Go to them. Quickly." She took a deep, shuddering cough, black bile escaping her mouth. "_Go,_ Ranma!"

Ranma took one step backward, then another, then tore himself away and dove headlong for the portal. Behind him he heard a wet ripping sound, and the mystical gateway dissolved into nothingness just after he shot through.

The pigtailed fighter landed in a roll, ending in a crouch. He found himself a world away from the simple façade of the Juuban café. Rock walls surrounded him, a dark tunnel stretching off into even deeper gloom. The rest of the army had already pressed onward, leaving him alone.

Except... as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that was not quite correct. There was one other figure standing there, waiting in silence. Ranma looked up and met Shampoo's eyes. "Great-grandmother...?" she said, her voice barely audible.

Ranma opened his mouth to say something to her, to try to console, to try to explain. But he hardly ever knew the right thing to say even at the best of times, and the right words failed him utterly in the face of this. He could only stand there unable to voice his sorrow and regret.

The Chinese girl closed her eyes, then nodded. "Ranma come, then," she whispered. "Army make attack fast as can. Must catch up."

* * *

Queen Beryl gazed into her crystal ball, her lip twisting in distaste. She had hoped to cut this upstart army in two with one swift stroke, but instead the ones holding the portal open had managed to resist her long enough for all of them to get through. It was nothing short of galling.

Still, it was only a momentary setback. She continued to scry on the attackers, and saw that they had divided their forces into three groups, no doubt to move faster through the narrow tunnel network. _A clever tactic, but it will be your undoing,_ she thought. _I will not allow you to rejoin those three pieces. I will keep you divided, and crush each group one by one._

She saw that one of the three enemy divisions was lagging behind the others, and she turned quickly to one of the youma in her court. "Edraen!" she snapped. "Take twelve of the most powerful ranged youma you can find and mass teleport them to the choke point in the eastern tunnel section. If you move quickly, you can occupy the bunker there before they reach it. That alone should be enough firepower to hold that passage."

Then she turned to another youma. "The group in the western tunnels will pass near the training barracks," she continued. "Have Darak's rabble intercept them. They outnumber the enemy group badly enough that even _they_ should be able to prevent them from reaching the main chamber."

Now Beryl smiled. "And that will leave the remaining group to face the entirety of our main force alone."

* * *

Ranma and Shampoo ran through the winding tunnels, following the route that their group had been directed to memorize. The pigtailed fighter hoped that someone was keeping close tabs on Ryouga; this place was confusing enough for _him_, and he doubted that the lost boy would make it two consecutive steps on the right path without someone to drag him by the hand.

Soon he heard angry voices echoing up ahead, shouting in Chinese. He sped up, and before long rounded a corner that brought the rest of their third of the army into sight. To his surprise, they were not moving. An uneasy sensation building in his stomach, he pushed his way through the press of mercenaries, Pheonix warriors and mages, until at last he reached the heart of the disturbance.

Kiima and a young woman in a mage's robe were locked in a shouting match, as Lao Shihong watched them with detached disdain. The young mage was hysterical, practically in tears, and it looked like Mousse was holding her back from attacking Kiima herself. The nearsighted warrior was trying to get a word in edgewise, but the other two kept shouting him down. Ryouga was holding back Kiima in similar fashion, though in his case he looked completely lost as to what the argument was about.

So was Ranma, for that matter. "What the hell is going on here?" he muttered to Shampoo. "Can you translate?"

Shampoo nodded. "Girl is apprentice to Meihui. By Jiuxue Mystic law, if leader die in battle, command must pass to apprentice."

Ranma swore. "And Meihui was in command of this group. I'm guessing Kiima doesn't agree?"

"Kiima only barely accept Meihui as over her in first place, and Meihui is full-fledged elder," agreed Shampoo. "She not take orders from apprentice, no way. But apprentice-girl think Kiima taking over command is affront to dead master... and she too, too sad and not thinking straight."

"Got it. Thanks." With that, Ranma shoved his way to where the three leaders stood and walked right between them. "You damn _idiots!_" he roared.

The sheer ferocity of the shout got their attention, and Ranma did not let it slip. "I can't believe you morons are actually fighting at a time like this!" He turned on the mage girl, leveling his finger at her. "You! Your master just got killed, and you're standing here arguing over who _runs_ things while the ones who killed her are right down the tunnel? Doesn't sound to me like you're too broken up about it. Sounds to me like you're _glad_ she's gone, so you can take over!"

Ranma couldn't have gotten a more dramatic reaction if he'd stabbed the girl in the chest. Her face went completely white, and she convulsed as though struck. "That's a lie!" she screamed at him. "That's a—"

"Then _prove it_," the pigtailed fighter snarled at her. Without waiting for a reply, he rounded on Kiima, who was smirking at the turn of events. "And _you!_ I don't really care what kind of leader you want to call yourself, or how superior you think you are to us 'landlings.' All I know is _I'm_ going to go fight the youma. So if you want to 'lead' you'd better get in front of me—if you can. Otherwise, you can just sit here and rot like cowards, while the rest of us go out there and save your sorry feathered asses!"

With that, he turned away and began to jog down the tunnel. Everyone from the Nerima group began to follow behind him. Then Ranma heard the sounds of more and more feet joining them. The numbers were growing with each second, though he did not turn to look. Eventually, Ryouga drifted over until he was running alongside his rival. "They're following," he said quietly. "All of them. They're following you."

The pigtailed fighter nodded, a bit of relief seeping into his heart. "All right," he said, starting to speed up his pace. "Then let's give 'em something to follow."

* * *

Herb charged forward, rock walls shooting by on either side of him as he led his division of the allied army forward. As they raced down their assigned path, the dragon prince felt the battle-thirst rising up inside him. He increased his pace, eager to engage the enemy.

The tunnel widened, and soon they burst out into a larger sub-chamber. Far ahead, they saw a regiment of youma racing in at an angle to cut them off. Some of them were shooting as they ran, but the monsters were less than accurate at such a range. Few attacks even forced their targets to dodge or deflect.

A feral smile spread across Herb's face. They had predicted, based on what Cologne's pet monster had told them about troop placement, that this group might intercept them here, that his group would be the first ones to taste real battle. It was time to show these creatures just who they were dealing with.

The dragon prince adjusted his course to hit the enemy head-on, and the warriors thundering behind him followed. The martial artists' group was over seven hundred strong, and Herb estimated that the youma ahead were nearly three times their number.

Not as many enemies as he would have liked. But then, the day was still young.

Once they had blocked the exit to this chamber the youma scrambled to a halt, throwing together a hasty firing line of ranged youma, protected by another line of melee fighters in front of them. In response, Herb raised his fist in a signal, shouting out his command at the same time. _"Wolf pack!"_

The order had barely escaped his lips when more than two-score warriors dressed in wolfskin shot ahead of the rest of the force, fanning out, their speed increasing until they were effortlessly outpacing the others. They hurled throwing knives as they went, striking with terrifying accuracy and speed. Blades seemed to simply _appear_ buried in youma throats, or between youma eyes, throwing their front ranks into disarray.

Some of the enemy managed to return fire, sending a volley of projectiles at the oncoming warriors, but the wolfmen avoided the onslaught with contemptuous ease. As they closed, they abandoned their knives and drew their swords in unison, the steel gleaming down the line of blades. More youma rushed forward to try and patch the holes in their line, raising their weapons to prepare for the imminent clash...

...and then the wolf-born Musk revealed the _true_ extent of their inhuman speed.

As one, they all simply vanished from sight, moving at a velocity that even Herb's eye could barely discern as anything other than teleportation. One instant they were charging toward the enemy line, then next they were past it, youma behind them exploding into dust from sword slashes they hadn't even had time to feel. The wolfpack pressed the attack, darting back and forth through the enemy force in criss-crossing blurs of death.

Still, Herb knew that even they could not keep up such speeds for long. On their own, the sheer weight of numbers would eventually crush them. He raised his fist again, in another signal. _"Hawk flight!"_

At his command, the brutish, tiger-born warriors dropped to one knee, each one lacing his fingers together and holding them out. Behind them, a row of thin, angular Musk with talon-like hands each planted a foot into those waiting hands, whereupon the tiger warriors hurled them forward with all their might.

The hawk flight shot through the air like bullets, angling their path with near-supernatural grace. They tore into the disorganized youma force, talons shredding and ripping. Added to the wolfpack's rampage, the cohesion of the enemy was close to failing completely.

Then the tigers themselves hit.

Their attack was like watching an origami crane get struck with a sledgehammer. The huge tiger warriors stampeded through their enemies, striking left and right with devastating strength. The few, disorganized attempts at retaliation barely nicked their inhumanly tough hides. The rest of Herb's battle group charged in after, exploiting the breach to full advantage.

Herb, for his part, increased his own speed, rushing toward the thickest part of the enemy force, the only remaining knot of resistance, clustered around what seemed to be the youma commander. He gathered his battle aura about him as he ran, a blazing cloak of power. Then he leapt up into the air with a cry of _"Ryu Sei Hisho!"_

The dragon prince soared over the enemy formation, even as the constant ki blasts that he was using to keep himself aloft obliterated it. Youma screamed and fell in his wake, bodies crushed this way and that, limbs smashed and mangled. He eventually ended his trail of carnage, skidding to a stop in front of the enemy leader. "Herb, prince of the Musk Dynasty!" he challenged as he strode toward her, igniting a razor-sharp ki blade from one had. "Face me!"

The towering, horned youma did not give her own name, only charged at him with a deep bellow. Herb met her with a lunge and a single swing of his blade, cutting through both the arms she raised in a block and removing her head from her shoulders.

He turned, and saw that behind him his forces were quickly wiping out the last remaining resistance, while still more youma were fleeing in abject terror. "Onward!" he shouted, gesturing toward the now-unprotected exit. "Let's claim that witch's life!"

* * *

Ryouga charged down the tunnel alongside Ranma, his umbrella held at the ready. The rock walls blurred past, winding left and right as they raced toward their target. Behind them they heard the rumble of hundreds of pounding footfalls, the sound of the rest of their division following hot on their heels.

They rounded the next corner, and caught sight of a small patrol of four youma. Ranma immediately put on an extra burst of speed, racing ahead to meet them. One of them managed to make a panicked swing at him, but he flowed around the blow effortlessly, swinging the Gekkaja as he went past to slice through her leg at the knee.

She screamed as she toppled, only to have Ryouga slam his shoulder into her as he passed, sending her crashing into the tunnel wall. Simultaneously, the lost boy swung his umbrella with all his strength in the other direction, at another youma. She raised her arms in a block, but that was a mistake. The sheer force behind the unbelievably heavy weapon snapped her arms and carried through to slam into the side of her head, flinging her away.

Ahead, Ranma pounded one of the two remaining youma into unconsciousness with a storm of Amaguriken punches, which she was helpless to defend against. The other tried to level a weapon at him—some kind of hand canon—but Ryouga ripped a bandana off his head and hurled it before she could fire. The bladed fabric carved a gash across her face, and she staggered back, clutching her head in pain. That allowed Ryouga to close and bring his umbrella crashing down on her skull, killing her and reducing her to dust.

The two of them ran on, barely having slowed. Ryouga glanced over at his rival, noting the stony expression that he wore. He didn't know for certain what had caused the pigtailed fighter's shift in attitude, but—having seen Cologne's condition before he had gone through the portal—he could make a pretty good guess.

The lost boy's lip twisted. He hadn't known the old woman as well as Ranma had, but the thought of her death still ached. His fists clenched, and he focused his attention forward, at the task at hand.

Up ahead, the route branched into a T-junction, one tunnel continuing straight ahead, the other turning left at a ninety degree angle. Based on his memory of the map, it was the straight-ahead path that they needed to take.

But then, he wasn't exactly the most reliable source in such matters.

He charged onward regardless, flaring his aura. The junction approached, as he ran toward it at full tilt—

—and then, just before he reached it, he heard Ranma curse. The pigtailed fighter skidded to a stop, killing his forward velocity just before he reached the corner. Ryouga had time for a half-instant of perplexity before his danger sense began to scream at him.

Too late. His momentum carried him out into the junction, just as Ranma swung his leg out in a low sweep, hooking the lost boy at the ankles. Ryouga tumbled forward, just as a blindingly focused beam of magical energy shot at him from the left, burning through the air right where his head had been. He tumbled forward, rolling along the ground as fast as he could, as a dozen other projectiles tried to track his path, some energy, some physical. He just barely reached the other side untouched, taking cover behind that corner just as Ranma had taken cover behind his.

Now that the youma had revealed themselves they began to shoot in earnest, filling the passageway with concentrated suppression fire. Ryouga peeked around the corner, then had to jerk his head back immediately or be hit by a barbed spear travelling at an unbelievable velocity. Even as it was, he was hit by chips of stone from where it clipped the edge of his cover.

The brief glimpse he had managed to take had not been encouraging. The youma were holed more than thirty yards down the tunnel, inside a compact molded from the surrounding stone itself. Youma were packed behind its walls, allowing them to flood the entire passage with their attacks from a position of cover. If the human army tried to take it, the corridor would become a killing field.

And by now, he was getting the distinct impression that it was _that_ direction they were supposed to be going in after all.

* * *

Loofah led the charge of her division, warriors pouring through the tunnel behind her. They had crashed through every Dark Kingdom patrol they had encountered, and were now seconds away from reaching the rendezvous point.

The mouth of the tunnel rushed toward them, and then they burst out of it into a gigantic, arching cavern that stretched out before them. Far off into the distance, across the cavern's wide plain towered the craggy edifice of Beryl's palace. It was a single, mammoth tower of stone, rising up out of the rocky floor almost to the ceiling. Bridges and ropes extended out from it to smaller surrounding spires at seemingly random intervals. Near the top, the stone was fashioned into the rough outline of a skull, leering down at them with malice. And even though she knew its size intellectually, it still took Loofah a moment to adjust her perception to the sheer _scale_ of the structure.

They were alone on the plain, the first group to emerge from the tunnel system. Loofah wasn't surprised; their path had been the shortest, and they had expected to be the first ones to reach this point. Now it was their task to defend this end of the cavern, to prevent the enemy from occupying the other tunnel mouths until the other two divisions arrived for the combined push.

Ahead, she could already see stirring from the menacing structure, as well as the other spires near it. Doors were sliding and swinging open as youma poured out of them, some flying, some running, some crawling down the walls of the structures to reach the ground. The ever-growing mass of creatures swarmed across the plain toward the human army, an overwhelming wave thundering out to crush its far, far smaller opposition.

_"Prepare yourselves!"_ shouted Loofah, as she raised her cane in a signal. Around her, the three armies in her division moved into formation. The Silk Lotus took the front lines, while behind them the Joketsuzoku warriors drew their heavy bows and notched their arrows. Behind them, the Yakusai Poisoners set into place scores of small wooden catapults which many of them had been carrying on their backs, and loaded them with a generous helping of the gourds that they wore on their bandoliers.

"Steady..." Loofah called out, watching the approach of the horde with a grim expression. This would have to be timed perfectly for maximum effect.

Many of the ranged youma were already starting to fire as they ran, and with a fair degree of accuracy. The Silk Lotus countered by throwing up colorful, swirling Iron Cloth Shields to intercept the incoming attacks. Loofah did not let any of it distract her from her calculations. "Steady..."

The ancient warrior waited a few more seconds, then shouted "Catapults, _now!_"

Immediately, the Yakusai Poisoners manning the catapults fired them, hurling their payloads in unison. The shower of gourds arced through the air to rain down on the youma army, shattering as they struck, spilling clouds of green smoke. The youma caught within those clouds began to scream and thrash, the acidic concoction eating away at their bodies with terrifying rapidity.

The Dark Kingdom advance faltered, and the Joketsuzoku took advantage of it, sending volley after volley of arrows hissing through the air toward the enemy ranks. Their marksmanship was impeccable. Youma died by the scores... but still they came on. It was like trying to push back the tide. For each monster that crumbled to dust, even more were swarming up behind.

"Archers, above!" Loofah shouted. The cloud of flying youma had almost reached them. Obediently, the archers shifted their aim, sending their waves of arrows up at those youma, along with rapid-fire bursts of ki from Soap and Loofah. Many youma were picked out of the air, but far too many survived to return fire, peppering the human formation with projectiles and magic blasts as they strafed back and forth over the battlefield, banking left and right to dodge the shots coming up at them.

Soon the youma ground forces crashed into the Silk Lotus warriors, the din of battle increasing even more as the Iron Cloth wielders fought to hold them back. Scarves and sashes shot out to become writhing, twisting blades, slashing back and forth in sinuous, intricate patterns as their wielders spun and cut. Even the cloth robes they were wearing hardened around their very bodies, effectively becoming lightweight suits of armor. Their child-like leader was a terror to behold, manipulating over _thirty_ long cloth weapons simultaneously with his ki, each one constantly slashing out for youma to kill, whether in the air or on the ground.

Yet still the youma horde came. Relentless, overwhelming, with no end in sight. They were managing to hold the line, but they had barely made a dent in the ocean of enemies clamoring for their deaths. Savage, monstrous battle cries filled the air, mixed with screams, crashes and explosions.

_We can't hold them back for long,_ thought Loofah, as she took stock of the battlefield while firing ki blast after ki blast at the swarm overhead. _We'll need the other two groups if we're to even have a prayer. Ancestors, grant that they arrive quickly..._

* * *

Ranma swore again, and from the other side of the corridor, Ryouga could see that his rival's mind was racing, trying to find a way to break through. The pigtailed fighter swung his arm around the corner, blindly launching a one-handed Moko Takabisha in the direction of the youma bunker, but the ki blast was torn apart by the constant stream of enemy attacks before it had gone more than a few feet past Ranma's palm, and he had to yank his hand immediately back to avoid a concentrated salvo that chewed into his side of the wall, spraying him with stone shrapnel.

"Damn it, we can't waste time like this!" Ranma shouted in frustration over the noise of the youma barrage. "They're gonna need us at the front! We can't let them just pin down a third of our army!"

Ryouga licked his lips. Ranma was right, of course. If they were stopped here, it would be devastating to their chances of stopping the Dark Kingdom. Of saving everyone back home. "There's no choice," he agreed quietly. "We have to break through."

"I just... can't figure out how!" Ranma shouted back. "If we try to charge them, it'll be a massacre! There just isn't anyplace to dodge!"

At that, Ryouga let out a tiny snort. "That's so like you, Ranma..." he said, looking over at his rival with a lopsided smile. "Always thinking about martial arts like it's only about speed..."

Ranma turned to look at him, their eyes meeting as the constant hail of blades, energy beams and other deadly projectiles tore through the air between them. "Hey..." Ranma began, a worried frown growing on his face. "Hey, P-chan, what do you mean by that?"

Ryouga lifted his massive umbrella, opening it up fully. It gave a small _click_ as he locked it into position. "Get ready," the lost boy said. "This will be your chance. Wait until the shooting stops... and once that happens, attack. And don't let up. Not for anything."

"Wait! Ryouga, wait a sec! _Ryouga!_"

But Ryouga had already turned away, looking forward. He held his opened umbrella in front of himself like a shield, took a deep breath, and fixed an image of Akari in his mind. Her gentle smile. Her caring words to him. Things that he would never, ever allow these monsters to hurt.

Then he hurled himself around the corner, and into the youma barrage.

* * *

Syvellen crouched in the cramped confines of the bunker's second level, firing the spear-gun in her arm as fast as she could through the slot in the stone wall protecting her. On either side her comrades added their suppression fire to hers, and beneath them the lower row of youma did the same. The long stretch of tunnel was entirely filled with their attacks, providing no opportunity for their enemies to mount any response.

But then, to her surprise, one of them did so anyway. He rounded the corner and charged toward them, protected by nothing more than an opened umbrella.

It was so pathetic that Syvellen almost laughed aloud, even as she switched her aim to target the fool specifically. So did most of the other youma, their attacks tearing into his defense in an uninterrupted stream.

His umbrella was far tougher than it appeared, absorbing shot after shot, blast after blast as he plowed forward, but under the sustained bombardment it quickly began to weaken and come apart. One magical attack tore off a large chunk of the umbrella's left half, opening that side of him to their fire. A handful of steel spikes slammed into his stomach, impaling him, while a spinning buzz saw blade slashed open his cheek.

Still he ran on, twisting and weaving while he swung what remained of his umbrella to intercept the most damaging of the attacks. But many more were getting through now. His body jerked and spasmed as it was hit by countless projectiles both physical and magical, blood spraying every which way as he was stabbed, burned, cut and blasted. One particularly super-charged beam that he could not quite avoid tore through his right shoulder, shattering the joint and making that arm useless. But still he bore down on them, an aura of life energy blazing around him like an inferno as he charged forward with a savage battle cry.

_What in all the hells is that human made of?_ thought Syvellen. It seemed impossible that anything could survive such damage... but this attacker's resilience was nothing short of terrifying. Already he had covered well over half the distance to them! Hastily, she prepared another spear, firing it at his legs in an attempt to cripple his advance.

He used his left arm to swing the tattered remains of his umbrella low, knocking her spear away, but that allowed even more attacks to strike him elsewhere. By now his chest was a bloody ruin, so badly mauled that the bony white of his rib cage could be seen in many places. And yet he still bore down on them, closer and closer.

More of her comrades had followed her lead, and were targeting his legs as well. They were smaller, harder targets to hit, and he defended them fiercely, but with the sheer number of youma shooting one of the attacks soon got through. A half-dozen small metal spheres covered in barbed spikes slammed into his right leg, tearing into the flesh. He stumbled forward, off balance long enough for Syvellen to line up the perfect shot. Her spear gun barked, sending a high-velocity spear angling in just under the human's kneecap, driving clean through the joint and out the other side.

The human let out a howl and toppled. But even as he fell, he managed an acrobatic twist of his remaining leg, getting it underneath himself enough to make one last, awkward lunge forward. He dove forward with all his might, landing in a heap near the base of their bunker.

Syvellen craned her neck, trying to look down out the bunker's firing slot at their fallen enemy. He was close enough now that getting a good angle on him was difficult, but she managed. He was _still_ trying to advance, using his one functional arm to drag himself forward, leaving a bloody smear behind him as he went. The other youma had returned to saturating the corridor with suppression fire, but Syvellen wanted to make sure that this one was finished off for good.

She had to lean her arm in an extremely awkward fashion out the firing slot to get a bead on him, but she managed, aiming straight down from above as he continued to inch forward in his hopeless advance. With a mocking smirk, she fired a spear down into his back, pinning him to the rock floor below. Then, for good measure, she fired a second one, with the same effect.

To her astonishment, even _then_ the dying human did not stop trying to advance. Even pinned into place he twisted his body, stretching, straining, fighting for every last inch as he reached out toward them with his remaining hand. Until, with a final effort, he managed to press the very tip of his finger into the stone wall of their bunker.

Then Syvellen's eyes went wide, as _cracks_ began to appear in the stone, radiating out from where he was touching it. They spread through the bunker wall, its structural forces suddenly turning against each other with ever-increasing pressure. The youma around her had begun to notice it too, yelling panicked shouts and questions back and forth. Syvellen, for her part, turned and made a flying leap away from the wall as fast as she could.

Not a moment too soon. Behind her the wall was ripped apart in a violent explosion, lacerating her back with shrapnel. The youma still standing next to the wall weren't so lucky, and their shouts turned to screams as they were shredded by the full force of the blast. Syvellen hit the ground hard, tumbling end over end until she hit the bunker's far wall.

Shakily, she pulled herself back to her feet lifting her head to take in what had just happened. Immediately, her blood ran cold in abject terror. The entire forward wall had been obliterated. The youma who had been defending it were strewn everywhere along the ground, most of them seriously wounded.

And thundering straight down the corridor at them was the entire army they had been charged with holding back.

In desperation, she tried to ready a spear and launch it at them, but the one in the lead—a pigtailed human, clad in red and black—was on her far too quickly. He launched himself at her with a cry of rage, and the last thing she saw was the blade of his staff slashing around toward the side of her head.

* * *

Beneda glanced up, her human heart beating faster as she saw that the army was starting to move again. She didn't even know what had caused the inexplicable halt. The medics were positioned far to the rear of their forces, and all she'd had to go on had been the muttered speculation of those around her. But they were moving again now, moving toward the inescapable battle.

She ran with them, her hands clutching tight to the straps of the backpack she wore—filled to the brim with all manner of medical supplies. She didn't know exactly when she would need to use them, but she ran the likeliest scenarios back and forth through her mind, over and over again, trying to ready herself for whatever might happen.

None of it even remotely prepared her for when, less than a minute later, she saw Ryouga's mangled body lying on the ground ahead of her.

_"Ryouga!"_ The scream tore itself from her throat as she dove forward to kneel beside his unmoving form. The rest of the army ran on, veering left and right around her, but she ignored them as she threw off her backpack and fumbled to get it open. "Ryouga, hold on, I'll... I'll..."

She flung the backpack open in a frenzy and pulled out a roll of bandages, only to have someone grab her hand by the wrist. She turned to see Doctor Tofu standing over her, a sorrowful expression on his face. "He's gone, Beneda," he told her quietly. "Those bandages may save someone else. But they won't do anything for him now."

Beneda barely heard him, continuing to yank against his grasp as her vision was obscured by tears. It just wasn't right! All her practice, all her training... and yet it was all useless to help the _one person_ who had done more for her than anyone else ever had. He was dead. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"Please, we have to leave," Tofu said urgently, trying to break through the grief that was consuming her. "We'll be needed up ahead, and this place won't be safe for you once the army is gone. Ryouga gave his life for a _reason_, Beneda. We have to see that through. For his sake."

Her shoulders shaking with her sobs, Beneda looked up at Tofu. Realizing that she would be unable to tear herself away of her own volition, the doctor did it for her. He picked up her backpack with his free hand, then dragged her to her feet and pulled her stumbling behind him as they ran to catch up with the rest of their division.

* * *

"Your majesty!" The youma's voice carried a tinge of panic to it. "We've lost all contact with the youma in the eastern bunker!"

Queen Beryl's lip curled, and she reached down, moving her hands over her crystal ball, changing its focus to the bunker in question. The sight that greeted her made her eyes flash with anger. The location had been completely overrun, enemies pouring through it in their charge, all defenders long since dead.

"Your majesty!" came the voice of another youma, sounding even more distraught. "We've received word that the Darak's training regiment has been obliterated to the last youma! The enemies were barely even slowed down!"

A low murmur ran through the gathered throng of Beryl's court. True, the training regiment had been rabble... but they had outnumbered the enemy they faced by a huge margin. It was becoming clear that these unknown assailants were not to be trifled with.

"Your majesty! Your majesty!" Another youma was shouting now. "_More_ attackers, your majesty!"

"What? _How?_" demanded the queen, fixing the unfortunate messenger with an angry gaze. "I collapsed the Juuban portal myself—are you saying they opened it again?"

The youma quailed. "No, my queen!" she said quickly. "This isn't from the Juuban portal. Our detection wards on the Arctic perimeter were triggered a few moments ago. Someone has just teleported directly there!"

"Teleported...?" Looking down at her crystal ball, she shifted its focus to the source of the new intrusion, expecting to see more of these unknown enemies, attacking on yet another front.

What she actually saw was quite different. Five girls dressed in colorful sailor fuku, making their way across the frozen wastes.

_No! Not now!_ Beryl thought, cursing to herself. Were the Sailor Senshi in league with these new adversaries? Or was this independent action by both of them, coordinated merely by the shared fact of Queen Metallia's imminent release?

Either way, it was the worst possible timing. In any other situation she would have simply crushed the Senshi's impudent attack with the full force of her entire army, but that was impossible now that her domain was being assaulted on multiple fronts. She had to prevent the attacking forces from overrunning her defenses. But at the same time, she could not lose sight of the fact that the blonde-haired girl at the center of the Senshi formation could potentially ruin everything herself... just as the girl's mother had done so many, many years ago.

"Queen Metallia will be revived shortly," the queen said, as she gazed into the crystal ball at the descendant of the woman who had imprisoned her. "I will not allow you to interfere!" Then she addressed the throng of youma surrounding her throne, rising to her feet as she spoke. "Whoever wants to give them a death sentence, come forward!"

The response was immediate, as a voice called out in reply from somewhere in the crowd of youma. "Please allow us, the DD Girls, to take that assignment!"

Then a glow appeared in the air before her, and a group of figures materialized in a burst of short-range teleportation. Five of them, all different colors, all scantily-clad, all with translucent wings like those of a dragonfly.

Queen Beryl nodded once. The DD Girls were one of her most deadly squads. If she was forced to divide her forces, then they were an excellent choice for killing the Senshi. That settled, she turned to the other youma of her court. "Gevaris!"

Another youma stepped forward, this one with dark red skin, scars criss-crossing her body, and a sheathed sword strapped across her back. "Yes, my queen?"

"Take the rest of these youma and lead them to the main cavern to join the battle there," Beryl commanded. Then she turned to address her court as a whole. "All of you are my elites—the most dangerous warriors from each of the four Dark Kingdom armies. With your powers, I trust that you can handle both the enemies fighting there now, as well as the ones that broke through the eastern bunker."

"But... but your majesty," spoke up one youma. "What about the remaining prong of their attack? The one led by the beast-men?" the red-haired sorceress could see that the casual annihilation of the training regiment was still weighing heavily on their minds.

By way of a reply, Queen Beryl took her staff in hand and teleported toward the battlefield in a flash of crimson light.

* * *

Modra walked down the rocky tunnel, heading toward the portal to the Arctic plain, with the rest of the DD Girls following dutifully behind. A vicious smile was on the pale blue youma's face as she anticipated the battle to come. The battle that she and her teammates had been training relentlessly for, ever since their humiliation all those months ago.

The memories were as fresh in her mind as the day they had happened. Memories of the battle at Furinkan High. Memories of the indignity of being _saved_ by an enemy, by a pathetic Senshi weakling. She clenched her fists, reminding herself that soon her shame would be expunged forever.

Reaching up, she removed her headpiece from her forehead, looking down at its outline of wings outstretched. She smiled. Its magic would be _perfect_ to use against soft-hearted opponents such as those girls. And there was a certain irony in killing them with an artifact that she had obtained due to that very conflict in Nerima.

Laughing to herself, Modra fastened the headpiece back around her forehead. _Prepare yourself, Sailor Mars,_ she thought, as she continued toward the Arctic portal. _I have not forgotten the promise I made to you. At long last, the day has finally come to settle things between us once and for all..._

* * *

Running at full tilt, Prince Herb led his division as it burst out of the tunnel system and into the arching central cavern. He gave passing notice to the gigantic Dark Kingdom palace towering at the far end, but his attention quickly focused on the battle already raging closer at hand.

He could tell that his allies were barely holding their position, dwarfed by the horde crashing against their defensive line, battered by airstrikes from the youma flying through the air above. There was no time to lose. His troops fanned out behind him as they sped across the plain toward their target.

The three tribes under his command bore down on the distant youma force, hundreds of weapons at the ready, hundreds of voices roaring out battle cries as they charged. But the youma army did not even turn to meet their attack. Herb could scarcely believe it. _Is their commander an inept fool?_ he wondered. _Leaving their flank so undefended! This will be a slaughter._

But it was then, as his army thundered closer and closer, that Herb realized they were _not_ completely unopposed. Up ahead, there was someone in their path. One single figure, striding toward them. The long hair running down her back was a fiery red, and she wore a flowing purple dress. In one hand she carried a metallic staff with a crystal sphere atop it. She surveyed them all with a look of contemptuous disdain... and despite himself, Herb felt a small chill run down the length of his back at the raw malice in her eyes.

This was no time to play around. _"Mint!"_ the dragon prince shouted. "Take her, now!"

The words had hardly left his mouth when the young wolf-boy seemed to vanish from sight. Moving with an inhuman speed that was all but teleportation, Mint shot forward, hurling his knives as he went. The deadly blades shot toward the woman, but a few feet before they reached her they ricocheted away in bright flashes of energy as they struck an invisible barrier.

Mint veered right, speeding in circles around her as he hurled knives from every angle. But none got through. Herb could tell from the outline of the energy discharges that the shield was spherical, encasing her completely.

Even more of his warriors were joining in the attack now, shooting arrows, knives and spears toward the advancing woman. The countless projectiles beat against her barrier like raindrops against steel, doing nothing to slow her as she continued to walk unconcernedly through the assault.

They were almost at close range now, the martial artist army swarming in from all sides to engulf her. Without warning, the woman stopped walking and raised her staff high above her head. A blinding glow began to coalesce within the crystal ball, even as she slammed the staff back down, tip-first, into the ground at her feet.

Herb's eyes widened as a huge sphere of energy exploded from the impact point, filling his vision with white. It surged out from the impact point in all directions, ripping up the ground as it went before crashing into the army's front line. The prince had only an instant to react, checking his forward momentum and leaping backward in hopes of lessening the force of the blast. He used his Ryu Sei Hisho to project a stream of ki, flying backward even faster as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

Then the blast caught him.

It felt like he had been hit by a freight train. The wall of force smashed his arms into his chest, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll. The cavern floor and ceiling switched places over and over in his uncontrolled tumble, but by the time he landed he had managed to get his legs under him. He skidded back, his feet carving small furrows in the stone before he ground to a halt.

Most of the others were not so fortunate. An army's worth of warriors rained down from above, crashing to the earth everywhere around him with cries of pain. Many of the hardier ones staggered to their feet, but the red-haired woman was already advancing once again. She raised a single hand as she walked, a sphere of dark crimson energy gathering into her palm, which she then hurled at a cluster of warriors to her right.

The blast of concentrated magic struck one of the Tian Wu Swordsmen in the chest and exploded with earth-shaking force, ripping his body apart and killing or maiming every warrior in the vicinity. The woman didn't spare the carnage a second glance, merely walked on, using the same attack to slaughter another group on her left.

Herb roared, and launched himself forward. She glanced over at him as he blurred toward her. Then she made a small gesture, and over a score of jagged stone spikes materialized out of thin air, floating behind her. Another gesture sent them all rocketing toward the oncoming warrior simultaneously, with loud _cracks_ as the projectiles broke the sound barrier.

The dragon prince did not slow his charge in the slightest. The instant before the flying stones tore into him he thrust out his palm, paving his way using the full force of his battle aura. The red-haired woman raised her eyebrows a little in mild surprise as his ki blast shattered the rock spikes with its detonation. He plowed through the cloud of shrapnel that remained of them, and reached close range with her.

_"Ryu Sei Hisho!"_ Herb took to the air, banking to the left as he swooped in an half-circle around his foe, kept aloft by the ki blasts he was driving into the ground. The woman spun to track him—only to have the ricochets of his technique slam against her shield.

Magic and ki clashed against each other in blinding bursts of light as the Musk ruler hammered his foe's defenses from every direction. But she stood her ground without any sign of distress, glaring at him from behind her barrier as the constant explosions of energy sent stark shadows playing this way and that across her face.

Behind her, more of the army had regained their footing, and they wasted no time in charging to assist their commander. The woman didn't bother looking back at them, merely slammed the tip of her staff into the ground again. Without warning, countless stone arms erupted from the rock in a wide radius around her, latching onto the legs of anyone they could grasp.

The dragon prince flew back, dodging furiously, and managed to escape the spell's radius, but there were many others whose reactions were not as fast. The air was filled with the sounds of screams and snapping bone as the stone arms crushed whatever they could, while at the same time dragging their victims back down into the earth with them.

Herb's anger blazed even hotter—and he focused all that fury into a single shot. The energy blast roared toward the woman, the mere wake of its passing carving a furrow into the stone beneath. It broke over her shield with a shockwave that shattered the stone arms for yards in every direction, making her barrier shake visibly. For the first time in the battle, he saw a look of slight exertion creep into the woman's expression.

But the shield didn't even come close to actually breaking, and as the last flickering traces of his attack faded, he saw that she had already raised her staff to point directly at him.

"Impressive, that a worm such as you could push the queen of the Dark Kingdom this far," she mused, as crimson energy began to build inside the crystal ball at the staff's head. "Now _die_."

* * *

Loofah glanced over to her left, as the entire battlefield was illuminated by repeated flashes of crimson energy coming from where Herb's division was fighting. Even from this distance, she could make out the tiny, broken bodies of the warriors that those attacks were flinging this way and that through the air.

It was like watching someone swing a sledgehammer back and forth through a room filled with children's dolls.

_"Loofah!"_ The ancient master's thoughts were interrupted as Soap landed next to her, breathing hard. "Loofah, Herb's group is getting torn apart! You have to let me go help them!"

Gritting her teeth, Loofah blasted another flying youma out of the sky. "Send them help? We ourselves are barely hanging on as it is!"

"And how long will we last if that woman they're fighting finishes them off and joins the battle here?" demanded Soap, her eyes blazing angrily as she shot down two more monsters. Both of them knew the reason behind that anger, and for Soap's desperate desire to join that fight, though neither of them spoke it aloud.

The vile, corrupted presence that they could feel imbuing each of the magic blasts tearing through Herb's forces was exactly the same presence that they had felt imbuing the magic that had killed Cologne.

Loofah hesitated for a split-second, trying to decide where best to spend her resources. If they didn't kill the threat running rampant in Herb's area they were all lost, but without Soap's help in fighting off the fliers they wouldn't last much longer here either. Which was the greater threat? Was there even a correct choice? From her calculations, it seemed that doom faced them either way.

But then her finely-tuned ki senses detected something else, something that sent a vicious smile across her wrinkled face. "Go!" she shouted to Soap, who needed no second bidding. She was racing toward her new battlefield before the word had even finished falling from Loofah's lips. Loofah, meanwhile, began to bark out commands to every warrior within earshot. "Stand ready! Prepare to counterattack!"

Her statement was met with looks of disbelief. They were staring defeat in the face, and she wanted them to attack? Loofah said nothing more, only waited, continuing to shoot at the fliers as she watched the roiling battle before her...

...and then, a few seconds later, the final remaining division burst out of its tunnel with a loud battle-cry, swarming toward the left flank of the youma army, led by Cologne's son-in-law with the Gekkaja upraised.

The enemy scrambled to meet the new threat, their attack on Loofah's division faltering in intensity. _"Now!"_ the old woman shouted, leading by example with a barrage of ki blasts that tore through a large swath of the youma front line. The large-scale technique took a great deal of her remaining strength, but it was the perfect time for its use. The tipping point she had been waiting for. Her warriors took up the charge, hitting their now-disorganized foes with everything they had, while Ranma's force did the same from the other direction.

Wave upon wave of Phoenix warriors swept across the battlefield, bombarding the youma line—not with arrows or spears, but with a rain of small white eggs. The monsters below raised their arms to shield themselves from the strange attack, but when the eggs shattered they vomited out sprays of tendrils, grabbing the nearest foe and wrapping them into a much larger egg that formed in the blink of an eye.

Even as the panicking youma tried to figure out what was going on, the ground forces hit their line, attacking furiously. Wherever they came across an egg they smashed it, grabbing the head of the youma inside and forcing her to look them in the eye. Puzzlement at this bizarre behavior swiftly turned to dismay, as the newly released youma suddenly started attacking their former comrades, joining with the enemies they had opposed until moments ago.

Once they had expended their supply of the imprinting eggs, the Phoenix warriors continued their flight, straight into the swarm of flying youma, engaging them in air-to-air combat as they swooped and wheeled this way and that through the enemy ranks. Now it was not just fire from the ground that the fliers had to contend with, but threats in the sky as well. Attempts to strafe the army below left them wide open to the Phoenix attacks, while defending themselves against those meant they weren't watching for the arrows shooting up from the Joketsuzoku archers.

Below, the human ground forces were pressing their advantage, their enemies caught in a pincer between the two divisions. Step by bloody step they drove the youma back. Loofah caught brief glimpses of Ranma himself, throwing himself into the battle like a man possessed, a barely-followable blur of red and black. His enchanted blade flashed back and forth with Amaguriken speed, slashing down any youma that came within its reach. _Blood rage, and no mistake,_ Loofah noted. _That boy lost someone getting here._

It was unfortunate—but then, that was war. There would be time for such thoughts afterward, if they were still alive. Turning back to her forces, she urged them on. "Attack!" she shouted. "This is our chance! _Attack!_"

* * *

Herb gasped for breath, his shoulders heaving as he faced the witch-queen. The right pauldron of his scale armor had been torn off, and he was bleeding from deep gashes on his face and torso. He and the tattered remnants of his division surrounded Beryl, who looked back at them emotionlessly. Then she lifted her hand, and fired a huge bolt of energy straight up.

The dragon prince burst forward in a run. He had already seen her use this attack once before, and now he knew its timing. High above them, her bolt burst outward into a shower of hundreds of smaller beams, arcing around to plummet back down to earth, a veritable rainstorm of destructive energy that chewed up the ground in every direction. His remaining warriors scrambled backward, trying to get out of range.

Herb, however, had noticed the previous time that there was one other safe area left by this attack—the air directly above Beryl herself.

With a burst of his Ryu Sei Hisho he flew over her just before the rain of magic hit, and used that vantage point to pound two more ki blasts into her barrier while everything around them was ravaged. His attacks had no visible effect, and he had to fly in a twisting, midair dodge as the witch-queen tried to snap off a more concentrated blast directly at him. He soared in a tight, earthward spiral, landing in a crouch right at the edge of Beryl's shield.

_Blasting it doesn't work..._ the dragon prince thought, as he wrapped his battle aura around his forearm, molding it into a blade of a sharpness impossible for normal materials. _But perhaps this will!_

He spun around, putting all his weight into the swing of his ki sword, trying not to break her barrier, but rather _pierce_ it with a single, focused slash. His ki clashed with her magic once again... and as he pushed, he felt his attack cutting through.

With a triumphant shout, he slammed his palm into the wrist generating the ki blade, using the force to help push it in. It plunged deeper and deeper in toward Beryl's neck, and he saw the queen's eyes widen in surprise. But just when he thought he had finally cornered her, his blade hit a _second_ shield, layered underneath the outer one, stopping his attack cold.

Herb cursed, his ki blade vanishing as he leapt away. His attack had failed, and he was in much too close. Fury contorted the queen's features, and an inferno of chaotic energy appeared in each of her hands—black in the left, red in the right. She then slammed both hands together, and from the impact a storm of lightning exploded outward. Herb flew backward as fast as he could, but it was coming far too fast...

...and then he felt a tiny hand latch onto him from behind, and saw a wooden cane plant into the ground as Soap sprang off of it, the ancient master adding her velocity to his own. Between the two of them, they managed to stay just ahead of the storm until at last it reached the limit of its range and spent itself.

Beryl would doubtless have continued to attack them, but she was immediately set upon by Mint. The small speedster darted to and fro around her, his sword swinging in countless rapid slices. He didn't have anywhere near the strength to cut through her shield, but his assault diverted her attention, the constant flashes of magic energy from his strikes doubling as a way to obscure her vision, even as Lime charged in with a roar.

Soap looked like she was about to head back into the fray as well, but Herb caught her shoulder. "Listen!" he snapped, talking as rapidly as he could. "That shield of hers is near-impregnable. I doubt any of us have the power to break it outright... but if you focus your power into the sharpest possible cutting edge, it is vulnerable to being pierced. Do you have any techniques that can do that?"

The ancient master glanced back over her shoulder at him, then nodded. "The Chuan Chu Yao Zhen is probably my best one."

"I'm familiar with it." Herb frowned, thinking hard. "But I doubt it will be enough. It's not just the one shield; she's layering them. At least two layers. Probably even more than that based on how they were spaced." As they spoke, a series of thundering explosions came from over where Beryl was fighting, punctuated by screams from his men.

"Well do you have a better suggestion?" asked Soap, a hint of acid in her voice.

Herb took a deep breath. "Yes," he said. "Let me go first. I'm going to hit her with a Long Zhi Mao."

Soap gave him an appreciative look. "Impressive. If _that_ doesn't work, then I doubt my attack would fare any better."

"Which is why, if it doesn't work, there will be only one option left," Herb told her. "We will need to combine the two techniques."

"Combine?" Soap gave him a puzzled look. "How on earth would you combine a Long Zhi Mao with a—" She broke off, her eyes widening a little as understanding dawned. "Ah. I see."

"Good," Herb told her. "Now get ready. I'm making my attack while the others have her distracted." Then without waiting for a reply, he launched himself at the witch-queen.

As he ran back toward the fight, he saw that Mint and Lime were both down, their attack taken up by other survivors of the three armies. Lime was still moving even while prone, trying to crawl his way across the ground to reach Beryl. Mint was completely motionless. Anger filled the dragon prince, anger that he channeled into his attack.

There was no holding back now, no hedging his bets. He shot along the ground, pouring all the speed he had into this one last charge. As he ran, he formed another ki blade around his hand, this time concentrating on sharpening the tip as much as he could. He was a blur, a living missile, hurtling in with deadly intent.

For his final lunge, he used his Ryu Sei Hisho to propel himself straight forward, adding that technique to his already staggering speed as he stabbed his ki spear with all the power and momentum he could muster straight toward Beryl's heart.

* * *

Queen Beryl cursed under her breath as she released a blizzard of tiny energy blades from her fingertips, ripping three swordsmen to shreds that did not dodge it fast enough. But more fighters leapt relentlessly forward to take their place, keeping up their attack on her with suicidal determination.

It was like fighting against an aggravatingly persistent swarm of flies. _What can these insects possibly think to accomplish against me?_ she wondered, as she immolated several of the warriors with a wave of spellfire that ignited everything—even the stone itself—in a wide arc in front of her, sending her assailants scrambling backward. _Are they simply too foolish to flee? Surely they can see that their pathetic strength cannot hope to—_

Her train of thought suddenly broke off as she sensed a sudden spike of immense killing intent from behind her. She whirled, just in time to see the beastman leader, his eyes blazing with rage, cover the last remaining distance between them at an unbelievable velocity and stab his energy blade straight at her chest.

There was no time to do anything except focus all the power she could manage into her existing defenses. His strike speared directly into the magic barriers, piercing the first two layers as though they weren't even there. The third shield was where his thrust began to slow, and he only managed to dig partway into the fourth layer before it halted.

Still he pressed on, straining to drive the attack deeper, the energies flaring white-hot at the point of impact. The queen gritted her teeth, a vein throbbing in her forehead as she fought to hold him back, but he still managed to force his blade the rest of the way through her fourth shield. The tip struck against the fifth shield, where it finally stopped for good.

Beryl looked the beastman in the eyes, a mocking sneer on her face. She could tell that he had expended all his strength getting this far, and she still had two full shields remaining that he had barely even scratched. _Quite the sting... for an insect,_ she thought contemptuously. _But still just an insect in the end._

The beastman met her gaze without flinching, the determination in his eyes undiminished. He opened his mouth, and roared out a single word. _"Now!"_

Immediately, a small figure leaped up into view from behind the beastman. It was a tiny old woman, the same one who had helped him earlier. She had run up without Beryl seeing, in the blind spot created by her partner. Two fingers of her right hand were extended, and at her fingertips glowed a single spark of life energy so focused that it was nearly blinding to look at.

The ancient crone extended her fingers in mid-jump, aiming the glowing spark directly at the back of the beastman's shoulder. _"This is for my sister, witch!"_ she screamed, as she released the attack.

The spark burst from her fingertips in a long streak. It hit the beastman's shoulder, bypassing Beryl's shields entirely as it sliced through his arm lengthwise, until it burst out of his palm. From there it tore through the remaining two shields, and then punched a hole straight through Beryl's torso, sending her blood spraying out behind her.

The queen of the Dark Kingdom staggered back, looking down in disbelief at the gaping wound in her chest. She tried to take a breath, but found that she was only sucking in blood. Even as she struggled to comprehend what had just happened, the beastman was lurching back to his feet. His eviscerated right arm hung uselessly at his side, but he paid it no mind. He merely formed another blade around his left and lunged at her with a bloodthirsty howl.

And for the first time in millennia—for the first time since the day she had challenged Queen Serenity herself—Beryl knew _fear_.

That fear gave her wings. She cast the only spell she could, cast it faster than she would have ever dreamed possible. As the beastman's blade slashed down at her head, her body vanished into a glow of red, teleporting away from the battlefield as she fled for her life.

* * *

Herb felt the lack of resistance as his strike cut through the suddenly-empty air to carve into the stone floor beneath. He let out a roar of thwarted rage, sucking in deep breaths as his battle fury slowly subsided.

From behind him, Soap walked up, leaning heavily on her cane. Her own secret technique had evidently taken quite a bit out of her as well. She looked at the shattered ground where Beryl had stood, then spat to one side. "Pierced one of her lungs," she said disgustedly. "Bah. Was aiming for her heart, but hitting those accursed shields must have turned the shot a bit."

The dragon prince grunted. "Hopefully, it should still be fatal enough." He looked down at his ruined right arm. He was losing a great deal of blood from it, and eventually infection would set in. For this fight, it would only get in his way.

Once more, he formed a ki blade around his left hand, then used it to cut off the tattered remains of his right arm at the shoulder. Once the bulk of the limb had been severed, he ran the blade back over the stump again, slower this time, using the searing heat of his ki to cauterize the wound. Smoke and the smell of burning meat rose up from his shoulder, and his face twisted into a rictus of pain, but he finished the task before turning to his men.

Some were standing, some were limping, some were pulling themselves to their feet. Most of them were injured, many of them severely. In terms of numbers, the survivors were a pale shadow of the force they had started with, but their expressions showed no sign of fear, no indication of retreat. They were the faces of men who would fight to the death to finish the battle their comrades had died for, heedless of their own lives.

Herb gave an approving nod. "Enough delays!" he shouted, gesturing with his remaining arm. "We attack!"

And with a hoarse battle cry, the remnants of Herb's division charged onward toward the main battle line.

* * *

The moment Queen Beryl's body materialized back in her private quarters her knees buckled, and she fell in a crumpled heap on the ground amidst a growing pool of her own blood. Her breaths were little more than wet, gurgling wheezes. She knew that she was dying.

Only one chance remained. Pushing through the pain and disorientation, she tapped the last vestiges of her quickly-fading strength. Calling on all her vast sorcerous knowledge, she held her trembling hands over her wound and cast the most powerful healing spell she knew. Red energy crackled and flowed around the injury, and she clenched her teeth, willing the magic to work. _I... I can't die here! Not like this!_

After many long seconds, the spell completed. The queen went limp, her strength utterly depleted by the desperate effort. She could breathe again, and right now each breath of air felt like the most precious thing in the world.

It took several tries before she was able to pull herself into a sitting position, propping herself up against one of the nearby walls. She looked down at the staff still clutched in her right hand, and reached with trembling fingers for the crystal ball at its top, using its magic to survey the state of her forces.

The elites she had dispatched, led by Gevaris, were racing toward the main battlefield, and had almost arrived. It could not happen too soon—the battle itself was nearing disaster for her forces. All three of the enemy divisions were now attacking her army together, driving back her disorganized and demoralized forces. Beryl clenched her fingers tightly around her staff, until her knuckles whitened, wondering again where these inexplicable foes had come from, foes that had put her plans in such jeopardy.

But there was nothing she could do about them right now, except hope that the elites could turn the tide. Instead, she turned her focus to the Arctic surface, to observe the fate of the Sailor Senshi.

Even in the midst of her pain, a smile crossed the queen's face at the sight that greeted her. The DD Girls had almost completely wiped out the Sailor Senshi. The dead bodies of Sailor Jupiter, Sailor Mercury and Sailor Venus were littered along the snowy ground in a progression from the point of their first arrival in the Dark Kingdom.

True, they seemed to have taken most of the DD Girls with them in death, leaving only the leader Modra alive. But that was of little concern; those youma were replaceable. What _was_ important was the final removal of the Moon Kingdom threat. Even now, Modra was levitating out of a crater caused by their battle, a smile of victorious gloating on her face, the limp body of Sailor Mars held in her tentacles like a trophy.

Then, dropping the young Senshi off to one side like so much garbage, Modra continued to rise as she turned her attention to Sailor Moon, who was standing there in stunned horror. Beryl leaned closer to the image in the crystal ball, forgetting all else in the anticipation of seeing the young princess ripped to pieces—

—and then the youma's rise was halted, as Sailor Mars's hand clenched tight on one of her trailing tentacles. The youma looked down in shock at the Senshi, who was not quite so dead as she had thought. That shock turned to fear, as she realized the position that Sailor Mars had her in.

She tried to pull away, but before she could, searing flame shot up the length of her tentacles to consume her entire body in a raging inferno. The Senshi's suicidal attack culminated in a huge explosion of flame, shattering her surroundings and completely annihilating her opponent.

Despite the agony she was in, a scream of thwarted rage escaped Beryl's throat. _Damn those worthless youma!_ she thought in disgust. _They couldn't kill the most important target!_ She knew of only one person in all the foes assembled against her who was—potentially—powerful enough to harm Metallia directly, and thanks to Sailor Moon's accursed bodyguards, Beryl's impromptu assassination attempt on her had failed.

The queen closed her eyes, trying to think, trying to ignore the crushing weight of pain and fatigue that ate away at her. What could she do? She was in no condition to fight a Sailor Senshi head on herself, let alone fight the princess. She could try to recall some of her elites and hope they would return in time... but how many of them? Recall too few, and she risked Sailor Moon breaking through them to attack the slumbering Metallia. Recall too _many_, and she risked them not being able to stop the attacking army. She remembered the sight of the beastman lunging in at her for the kill, and a shudder ran through her at the thought of facing him again.

Then, suddenly, the solution occurred to her. She didn't need to risk diverting any of her elites. She knew the perfect means of attack, one that the soft-hearted girl would doubtless be unable to bring herself to fight against.

Planting her staff into the ground, she used it to pull herself slowly back to her feet. She took a deep, ragged breath, then projected her voice through her crystal ball to one of her servitor youma in a control room in another wing of the palace.

"Begin the awakening sequence for Endymion's capsule," she commanded. "And once it is completed, inform him that I request his presence in the throne room."

* * *

Her feet pounding across the stone, Gevaris led the youma of Beryl's court as they raced across the huge cavern toward the raging battle. A grimace of distaste crossed the youma's face as she took in the sorry state of their forces. _What do those fools think they're doing?_ she wondered.

Glancing back over her shoulder as she ran, she made a series of quick hand gestures, directing each squad to the locations where their powers would have the greatest impact. Then, as they drew nearer and nearer, she reached behind her back and drew her sword from its sheath.

The blade glowed an eerie, spectral green, faint wisps of smoke emanating from it as she held it at the ready. She could feel the weapon thirsting for the lives of their enemies, a thirst that intensified the closer they drew.

_Soon..._ she assured it in her thoughts, stroking the hilt lovingly with her thumb. _Just be patient a little while longer... The time to kill will come soon enough..._

* * *

Balm's death was Loofah's first clue that something had changed.

It wasn't a visible attack, not a beam or a weapon strike. The command post was far enough back from the front line that those were rare. One moment the young warrior was fine, the next she was clutching at her throat, her eyes wide with panic as she tried to draw in breath. She struggled, clawing violently with her hands as she thrashed, but to no avail.

A few nearby warriors raced over to her, full of concern, but there was nothing they could do. Loofah ran over as well, coming in right behind a Silk Lotus tribesman who was trying helplessly to assist Balm. Then, in one smooth motion, Loofah took her cane and drove it straight through the man's back, killing him instantly.

The elder looked down in horror at her now-bloody cane, but her body was already lunging toward her next-closest ally. The man tried to defend himself, but Loofah broke his knee with one swing, then grabbed his head and smashed it into the ground with lethal force. A sadistic laugh bubbled up inside Loofah's chest, and she slowly licked the blood from her fingers as though savoring the taste.

_A youma... somewhere... controlling me!_ thought the ancent master, as she gathered every scrap of mental strength as she fought to resist the invader. Her movements slowed, becoming uncoordinated and jerky as they struggled over control of her limbs. She staggered drunkenly back and forth as control wavered between her and her assailant, but it was clear that the youma's spell gave her the upper hand in this fight. More allies clustered around her, weapons at the ready, unsure of how to respond to their apparently-insane commander.

_Where are you?_ thought Loofah, reaching out desperately with her senses even as she fought to keep herself under control. She called on every last bit of knowledge from over a century of experience, searching the countless auras in the youma army for one whose focus was specifically on _her_. It was a terribly subtle thing to detect, let alone in a situation like this one... but the elder succeeded. _There you are!_

She was still locked in the youma's grip, of course, unable to act on the knowledge. But the monster had made one fatal mistake when she had gloatingly lapped the blood from Loofah's hand. The old master now knew that whatever the nature of the magic being used on her... it extended even to feeling what the possessed body felt.

Without warning, she suddenly abandoned the battle for control of her limbs. Instead, she focused her efforts elsewhere, on one single action. Her attacker did not react to the switch in time to stop her from clamping her teeth down in a savage bite on her tongue.

It might have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a scream of pain in her head. Loofah felt the pain too, but _she_ had been ready for it. In those precious seconds when the youma's concentration was broken, she took a huge leap straight up, soaring to a vantage point over the battlefield from which she could target her enemy.

Black fury for what the monster had forced her to do surged through her, and she unleashed that fury back on her foe. Ki blasts rained down from above, obliterating a large swath around where the youma had stood, turning any youma nearby to dust and the ground to smoking craters.

But the damage had been done. Nor had that incident been the only such damage either. All along their line similar incidents could be seen. Warriors spontaneously bursting into flame, falling into deep slumber, screaming in terror at things only they could see. Even in the melee fighting, Loofah could see many new youma rushing in to join the fray whose combat abilities were on a far higher level than ones they had faced up until now.

_Elite forces..._ she thought grimly. _Up until now it's been their basic infantry, but these are the ones with the real skill, and the truly deadly powers... Beryl must have been holding them in reserve until she'd taken our measure._

Already the tide of battle was starting to turn, as the human army's advance slowed to a stop. Their battle line was fracturing all over, as warriors were struck down by attacks they could not defend against. More reinforcements tried to fill the gaps, but Loofah could see it was a hopeless effort. They needed to stop those spellcasters—immediately—if they were to have any prayer.

Straining her ki senses, she detected about thirty likely candidates. Youma whose dark, oily auras seemed a bit more powerful than their comrades, youma that were radiating killing intent, but not pressing forward to attack. Now that the gambit to control her had failed, she had no doubt that in moments they would be targeting her using other unknown powers.

She needed to abandon her conspicuous position, and they needed to die. And so, gathering what remained of her strength, Loofah dove through their lines directly into the heart of the youma army, a tiny, dodging, weaving blur as she spun and twisted her way though their ranks in search of her targets.

* * *

Akane lashed out with a kick, causing the youma she was fighting to hop away. The monster retaliated with a series of wild swings with her sledgehammer-like fists, but Akane managed to sidestep one and grab her assailant's arm, locking her in place while she kneed the youma repeatedly in the stomach. They struggled, the youma trying her best to break free, but a second later the tattooed warrior to Akane's left drove his spear through the trapped monster's throat.

The young Tendo kicked away the dying youma, sending it crashing into two other monsters and knocking them both over. This left them easy targets for a magical lightning bolt from the line of mages that were kneeling behind them, providing artillery support from a position of relative safety. Akane, meanwhile, was already locked in combat with the next enemy.

There was no end to them. They swarmed at the human lines, kicking slashing, biting, shooting. They were terrifyingly strong and deadly, but they lacked anything resembling teamwork, discipline and coordination. That was the one edge the human armies had, and with it they were managing to hold this part of the line together. Akane's breath was coming in ragged pants, but she fought on with grim determination.

Then the red-skinned youma arrived.

She leaped into the air from behind the youma lines, clearing them with a single jump and plummeting toward the human army. She held a sword upraised in her hand, glowing with a spectral green light and trailing faint wisps of smoke in its path. One of Lao Shihong's men stepped forward to meet her descent, raising his own sword in a block.

The youma made a single swing as she landed, cutting both the man's sword and the man himself in half as though neither offered any resistance at all. Immediately she spun and decapitated the mercenary to her right, while kicking behind her to send another one flying.

That left the mages that had been taking cover behind them open to her attack. They tried to scramble away, but the youma was on them too fast. She raised her sword once more—

—and then staggered slightly to the left, as a spike of concentrated air pressure slammed into the side of her head. _"Foul creature!"_ shouted Kuno Tatewaki, as he left his post on the line and advanced on her. "You shall not touch them while I draw breath! Face me, and feel the judgment of heaven on your evil actions!"

The youma glanced at the young kendoist with amusement, then cracked her neck left and right and raised her sword in a guard position aimed at him. Around them the battle raged, the human warriors struggling to hold back the Dark Kingdom. And it wasn't just their area that had been attacked by a more powerful opponent than before. Everywhere Akane looked new youma were joining the fray, far more deadly than any they had yet faced, and the casualties were mounting. It was taking every fighter they had just to hang on—and that only barely—leaving Kuno to fight alone.

The young girl fought on, but kept stealing worried glances back to where Kuno stood. _Can he really beat her?_

In the brief glimpses that she caught, she saw Kuno closing in on the youma, who awaited him with languid unconcern. Each sliding step he took was measured, his eyes examining his opponent's weapon carefully. _His bokken has a slight advantage in reach,_ Akane thought, as she ducked under a spinning blade that nicked off some of her hair as a shot past. _But he can't block that blade! What is he going to do?_

Then, during a moment when her attention was on her battle, the sound of fighting broke out from behind her. A battle cry from Kuno, rapid movement, blades slashing through the air. When she finally managed to steal another glance, she saw that the two had pulled apart again and were circling. She also saw that Kuno was moving with a limp, having sustained a deep gash in his leg, along with a cut across his cheek. Even as she turned back, she heard the youma laugh. "Give it up, human. You don't have a chance."

"Never!" she heard Kuno shout back from behind her. "I fight on!"

There was the sound of another clash, this one shorter and more vicious, ending in a cry of pain from Kuno. When she looked again, she saw that Kuno was down on one knee, clutching at his leg with the youma closing in. She hacked down at him, just barely missing as he threw himself to one side in a desperate, ungainly roll. The monster followed leisurely, a predator stalking her wounded prey.

_No!_ Akane thought. The youma was about to kill Kuno, and once she did that, she could tear apart their entire line from behind. Turning to the warriors next to her, she shouted out "Cover for me!" Then she spun and ran toward where her schoolmate was fighting.

The red-skinned youma had her back toward her, which was what Akane was counting on. She tried for a sneak attack, but before she got anywhere near close enough the monster whirled around with a slash. The Tendo girl frantically checked her speed, leaping back again while instinctively throwing up her arms in defense.

The tip of the glowing blade carved a wound across her forearms, and she staggered back unsteadily. But the distraction had given Kuno a chance to swing his bokken up and slam it into the youma's side. She howled, backpedaling away as Kuno lurched back to his feet. He was barely standing, his injured leg looking as though it might buckle at any moment. But he stumbled drunkenly forward, lashing out with all his strength. "I... fight... on!"

Her lip twisting in annoyance, the youma swung her own sword up to meet his, cutting off all but a short stump of the bokken with a single stroke. Akane rushed forward, heedless of her own safety, knowing that the next attack would kill Kuno if she didn't do something. _Watch her sword! Get ready to dodge! I have to distract her. I have to keep her busy somehow!_

As planned, her charge drew the monster's attention away from Kuno, but Akane didn't fare much better. Even focused on nothing but defense, she was completely overwhelmed by her opponent. She backpedaled, circled, sidestepped and fled, but it didn't take her relentless adversary long to see through her desperate evasions.

The youma moved as though she were going to slash in from the right, and Akane threw herself away in a lunge. Then—too late—she realized that it had been a feint. The monster had _wanted_ her to dodge in exactly that way, leaving her off-balance for the true attack. A terrified scream caught in Akane's throat as the youma's blade stabbed straight at her face. There was nothing she could do—

Then something blurred in front of her vision, something shoved her backward, and a wet noise filled her ears. The next thing she saw was the blood-stained tip of the youma's glowing sword, quivering inches away from her left eye. It was stopped there, unable to come any closer, since the weapon was buried to the hilt in Kuno's chest.

Akane gaped, barely managing to process what she saw, her eyes wide with horror. The youma, for her part, stared at her opponent with incredulity, as though trying to puzzle out why he would take such an action. Eventually, though, she abandoned the attempt and began to pull her weapon out of Kuno's body.

But his left hand shot up, clamping down on the hilt of the weapon and holding it in place with a madman's strength. The monster's eyes widened, and she redoubled her efforts, but she was unable to yank it free. "I..." wheezed Kuno, as he raised his other hand, still gripping the stump of his bokken. "...fight... _on!_"

The youma should have abandoned her sword and fled... but she hesitated, still fighting to extricate it from the kendoist's grip. That hesitation was just one moment too long. Kuno took what remained of his bokken and, with a sudden surge of speed, drove it straight through the youma's eye socket and into her skull. Then he ripped it out the side of her head in a spray of dust, as she crumpled to the ground, disintegrating.

His foe defeated, Kuno toppled over backward as well. Akane caught him as he fell, almost impaling herself on the sword still in his chest. "Kuno!" she screamed, her hands moving in a hopeless attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. _"Kuno!"_

The kendoist smiled at her, his teeth stained red. "Do not... worry, my fair tigress..." he coughed weakly. "I would... do this... a hundred times over... for the sake of your love..."

Akane's reply was a choked sob. Their "love", of course, had only ever been a creation of his deluded mind. Yet now he lay there, dying for it. Dying for _her_. Her eyes filled with tears, and she knew that she needed to do something. But now there was only one thing left that she could think of to do for him. Drawing in a deep, tear-soaked breath, she leaned down and pressed her lips against his.

After she raised her head again, she saw that Kuno was staring at her in astonishment. "Tendo... Akane... you..." He raised his fingers to his lips, touched them. "...you..." His eyes met hers, and there was a newfound clarity there, one that had not been there before the kiss. "...you... did not mean that... did you?"

The youngest Tendo jerked, as though stung. "What? I... No, Kuno, I..."

"Your... _passion_... Tendo Akane..." said the dying kendoist, quietly but firmly. "Even if... I was deluded... about everything else in my entire life... I could never... _never_... mistake your passion. It's presence... or its absence. That was what drew me to you... from the very beginning... my fierce tigress. When we argued... when we fought... I could... _feel_ it toward me... like the brightest... flame in the world."

"I... told myself... you did not mean the words you said. I told myself... that the passion I felt from you... was actually from your love. Your true feelings... for me." He let out a wet chuckle. "It seems... that I have played the fool... to the very end."

Akane clenched her eyes tight, the cruel irony tearing at her. At the only moment in her life when she _hadn't_ wanted it, her kiss had done what no shouting, no beating, no fiery protestation would ever have been able to do. It had made Kuno see the truth.

A touch on her cheek made her open her eyes. "Do not grieve... Akane..." Kuno told her. "Even now... I regret nothing. I had... the chance to experience your passion. Whatever... the reason for it. It made me..." His eyes were losing their focus, but he nevertheless pushed through the last words he had to say. "It made me... happy."

_"Kuno!"_ But the kendoist had already slumped lifelessly in her arms, and was beyond the reach of her cry.

Her emotions were in turmoil, her spirit shredded. But the sounds of war all around her reminded her that she could spare no time for such concerns. Running an arm savagely across her eyes, she rose to her feet and charged back into the fray, throwing herself into the battle with newfound fury.

Even so, it was obvious that they were losing. Though Kuno had managed to kill the elite attacking this part of the battle line, other areas had been even harder hit. The wall of warriors had been completely breached in many places, and youma were pouring through the gaps like a swarm of insects.

Whole sections of the army were being driven back toward the tunnels they had come from, while others—like Akane's—had been cut off from the main force by the youma offensive. What remained of her group had pulled itself into a circle, with youma coming at them from every direction. But they fought on, striking out left and right at the growing press of monsters surrounding them.

_"Look out!"_

Akane whirled, in time to see a small metal spatula tear through the throat of a youma she hadn't noticed jumping through the air at her from behind. The monster died as she fell, spraying Akane with dust but leaving her otherwise unhurt. The next moment, Ukyo, Shampoo and Kodachi burst through the surrounding monsters to join up with the remnants of Akane's group.

"Violent girl still alive?" panted Shampoo, as she slid into formation, while fending off two youma at once with her large, mace-like _chui_. "Shampoo surprised!"

"Sorry to disappoint you," quipped back Akane, as she sidestepped the swing of a youma wielding an axe. Her entire body felt as heavy as lead, and she knew she would not last much longer before finally making a fatal mistake. But she counterattacked as hard as she could, though her foe easily avoided the blow.

"This was the last place we could reach!" shouted Ukyo, trying to make herself heard over the din of fighting. "There's no way to make it back to the main group; there's just too many of them!"

Akane nodded once. It wasn't anything she hadn't known, but to hear someone else say the words gave it a whole different reality. Their attack had failed. Metallia was still protected. The Dark Kingdom was ripping their army to pieces, and this little group was completely surrounded.

Still she fought on, blindly, channeling her rage at all the death she had seen in order to stay on her feet just a little bit longer. Her gi was stained red with her own blood from all the attacks she had not quite defended against, but still she fought on.

It probably didn't last even a full minute, but it felt like an eternity.

Ally after ally fell around her, until at last it was only her, Shampoo, Ukyo and Kodachi. The four of them pulled in to form a box, shoulder against shoulder, striking out in every direction. A youma threw herself at Ukyo, but Akane drove a kick into the monster's knee, snapping the joint in mid-lunge. This left her wide open to another youma leaping in at her, but Kodachi's ribbon snaked around the monster's neck and hurled her to crash into a group of her fellows.

Akane could feel the labored breathing of Kodachi and Ukyo through where their shoulders were jammed together. She could hear the constant crashes as Shampoo fought directly behind her, guarding Akane's back. Together, fighting with the strength of desperation, they stood against the endless tide of monsters, even with all hope gone, even though they knew they were seconds away from being overwhelmed.

It came to her mind, suddenly, that up until today she had been bitter rivals with these three girls. She almost laughed at the thought. Everything they had gone through together, everything that had pitted them against each other... it all seemed so small and silly from where she stood now. Here, amidst the blood and the death.

Here, at the end of the world.

* * *

One hand leaning against the rocky wall for support, Queen Beryl slowly made her way through the winding passage that led back to her throne room. She had already replaced her torn and bloody dress with a new one from her quarters before leaving. She would _not_ show any sign of weakness to Serenity's accursed heir.

Already she was planning ahead, savoring the delicious irony of using Endymion to kill the young princess. It would have to be done quickly, though. If the girl somehow managed to unleash her magic against Metallia before they stopped her, everything could be for naught. _I think I can muster the strength for a simple teleportation spell,_ Beryl thought. _That should be the fastest way to bring her into the grasp of her former beloved._

Soon, the queen reached her destination. Endymion was already waiting there, his blank eyes staring off at nothing. Beryl studied him lovingly for a moment, drinking in every detail of his regal frame. _Mine, now,_ she reminded herself, focusing on that one fact, instead of everything else that had gone wrong. _Mine. Not hers._

The queen sat down on her throne, placing her staff with its crystal ball in front of her. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, gathering her remaining strength for what she was about to do.

Then Beryl opened her eyes, staring down at the image that now filled her crystal ball: Sailor Moon, standing on the Arctic plain, just outside the crater that housed the portal to the Dark Kingdom.

As she gazed at her young enemy, Beryl suddenly wondered if this was how Queen Serenity had felt, all those millennia ago. Now the roles had been reversed. This time, it was Beryl's domain that was under attack from an army that had struck out of nowhere. This time, it was Beryl from whom Serenity was determined to take Endymion. Everything about this age-old conflict had been brought full circle.

"So, little girl, you have come," the witch said. "I will show you what hell is."

With that, she activated the transport spell that she had been preparing. It took a great deal out of her, but she was satisfied with the result. The young princess would be standing before them soon.

On a whim, she stood and extended her right hand toward Endymion. He was motionless for a moment, before his brainwashed thoughts caught up with what she was asking of him. But once he realized her desire, he immediately knelt down and pressed his lips against her hand.

Despite everything, a small thrill ran through Beryl's heart at the feeling. It was wonderful. And if she tried very hard, if she made sure not to look directly into his empty eyes, she could almost forget that what kissed her hand was little more than a puppet dancing on Metallia's strings.

_It doesn't matter,_ she thought, as she sensed the transport spell bringing the princess ever closer. _He's with me. That's all that is important. I lost last time, but that was because he was with her. As long as Endymion is by my side, I can overcome her._

_As long as Endymion is by my side, I can overcome anything._

* * *

Gasping for breath, Loofah hopped a rapid series of steps backward, angling left and right around the swings, thrusts and shots of the countless youma that surrounded her on every side. She knew she was almost done for. Her last dregs of strength had been spent in killing twelve of the thirty casters she had identified.

Nine more of the casters had also vanished from her senses without her action—or any other action that she had detected. She didn't know quite what to make of that.

She was trying to kill one more, but she didn't think she was going to be able to manage it. The youma had a wickedly fast teleportation ability, able to move herself out of danger in an instant, and several times now she had tried to teleport Loofah's heart right out of her chest. So far she had been able to keep making her opponent miss, but it was an extremely tiring fight, and the elder couldn't even get close to landing a hit in her current condition.

Loofah whipped a small throwing knife out of her sleeve and hurled it at the cackling monster, but she simply teleported away again, allowing the projectile to kill the youma that had been standing behind her. "Oooh, you almost had me with that one!" the teleporter mocked, then raised her hand in Loofah's direction. "Now my turn!"

The elder tried to move evasively again, but her body was too sluggish, and she knew it wouldn't be enough. Her enemy's crazed eyes lit up with the assurance of victory—

—just as the blade of a short bamboo sword exploded through her chest from behind. The monster had just enough time to stare down in disbelief at the weapon impaling her before she crumbled to dust, revealing Konatsu standing behind her.

"Elder Loofah!" the ninja called out, as the surrounding youma whirled to face the sudden new attacker. "Please, leave this work to me! Return to the army; I will take care of the rest!"

Even before he finished speaking, youma were charging at him from every direction, but the moment before they reached him he threw down a smoke bomb. By the time the smoke had cleared, he had vanished from sight completely. Loofah, for her part, took advantage of the distraction to bolt away as well. This solved the mystery of the other disappearing youma, of course. Someone else had realized those casters needed to be eliminated, and had applied his assassin's skills to the task.

Now that she knew it was ninjutsu stealth techniques she was looking for, Loofah could pick out Konatsu's movements as he slipped through the horde of monsters on the way to his next target. _He really is quite impressive,_ she thought. _And he's right. I've overstayed my usefulness here. I need to get back to the main force. Hopefully, we've put enough of a dent in their high-level casters to make that a safer proposition._

The tiny old master darted and weaved through the youma ranks like a small, scuttling bug. The sight that greeted her upon coming into view of her warriors was not an encouraging one. Killing the casters had come too little, too late. The human army had been fragmented, their formation in shambles, and the surviving pieces were being driven back toward the tunnels.

Loofah whispered a heartfelt curse, but there was no time for recriminations. Even though the situation seemed utterly unsalvageable, she would not stop fighting. She would wage war as best she could, until the very end.

As she raced back, however, she noticed with surprise that she had been wrong about their army being in total retreat. That wasn't quite true. There was one part of the army that was still standing fast against the youma onslaught.

Specifically, one warrior.

Ranma was alone, completely surrounded, with monsters swarming at him from every direction at once. Talons slashing, fangs biting, weapons shooting, they attacked him relentlessly, but he cut wave after wave of them down. The Gekkaja was nearly invisible, he spun it back and forth through the air so fast, and his own maneuvers and dodges were similarly rapid. He was bleeding from several wounds, but he did not seem to notice them as he fought with the tenacity of a rabid dog.

_Blood rage indeed,_ thought Loofah, amazed. All the same, she knew it was only a matter of time before either the enemy overwhelmed him, or he attracted the attention of a youma whose power was sufficient to kill him without risking death at his hands. She didn't want to waste the boy's life here, on an unthinking stand. If they still had a hope, it would be to regroup in the cover of the tunnels. She needed to snap him out of this.

Accordingly, she darted in close to him. "Ranma!" she shouted, punctuating her words with a quick slap across the face. Then, drawing on over a century's worth of experience leading troops, she put as much authority and command into her voice as she could. "Ranma, _follow me!_"

The pigtailed warrior blinked. He didn't exactly acknowledge her words, or stop attacking the youma, but as Loofah drew back he did follow along. They fought back to back, ancient master and young prodigy, until at last they drew near to the mouth of the nearest tunnel. A hail of assorted projectiles poured out of it, covering their retreat as they turned and ran the last distance.

The two of them jumped over the makeshift trench that someone had blasted into the rock, from inside which the suppression fire was coming. Soon after that, they rounded a corner in the tunnel that put them out of view of their enemies, along with a densely packed crowd of other survivors. And then, at last, Loofah was able to slump down against the wall in utter exhaustion.

Ranma did much the same, his hands trembling slightly, his eyes not quite focused. Loofah glanced over at him, then sighed. She wondered how many scores this boy had killed today? And how many hundreds he had seen die? A great burden for anyone, much more someone not accustomed to this kind of carnage. "First time is always the hardest," she offered, in between wheezing breaths. "It gets easier."

"Easier?" Ranma asked, the word full of bitterness and anger. "I... I watched him die! I just _stood_ there and... the hallway was so long and... they just butchered him and I... should have thought of something!"

"You did what you had to do." Loofah didn't know the exact circumstances, but she could guess at them well enough. More to the point, it was what the boy needed to hear right now. "Whatever happened, whatever will happen... the important thing is to do what you can for the people you still _can_ help."

That seemed to get through to the pigtailed fighter. He nodded, his gaze focusing again. "Yeah..." he whispered. "Yeah, you're right. The people I still can help." Then his eyes widened in horror. "Oh _hell!_ Akane!"

He shot to his feet, looking back and forth in growing panic. "Where is she? I was up at the front... leading the charge... I... I don't even know where she was fighting!"

"Ranma..." began Loofah, but the young man was no longer paying any attention to her. He took off down the tunnel, searching the crowds, searching the injured that were lying everywhere, calling out the girl's name at the top of his lungs.

* * *

_"Akane!"_ Ranma's throat was hoarse from shouting, but he pressed on, desperate to find his fiancée somewhere amidst the survivors packed into the tunnel. He didn't let himself think about the alternative. He couldn't. She had to be here, somewhere. She had to be!

But second after second went by with no sign of her, his desperation increasing with every step he took. By the time he came across Kiima—sitting propped up against the tunnel wall, nursing a shattered wing and an ugly burn covering most of her right side—he jumped at the slim chance her presence offered. She was one of the leaders; maybe she knew something! "Kiima! Have you seen Akane anywhere?"

The winged woman looked up at him, her expression weary and defeated. When she spoke, her words were brief and to the point. "Yes. I did. Toward the center, I think."

Ranma blinked, caught off-guard by the flat answer. "You mean... toward the center of the tunnel?" he asked, hope swelling up inside him.

She shook her head. "No. Toward the center of the cavern out there. That was where I last saw her fighting. Her section of the battle line had been cut off. Couldn't retreat with the rest. Didn't see how she died. Youma shot me down first."

"No..." whispered Ranma, her words hitting him square in the chest like no blows ever had. "No, that... that can't be right..."

Kiima shrugged. "You don't need to believe it. Won't make much difference whether you do or not."

"No!" Ranma repeated. Then his hand shot down, and he grabbed the Kinjakan from where it lay at Kiima's feet. Before she could protest the theft of her weapon he was already off, racing back the way he had come. _There's no way!_ he thought. _There's just no way she'd die like that! Maybe she's just... injured. Maybe she was knocked unconscious in the battle. But she's gotta be alive! I need to get out there and bring her back!_

A magical staff held in each hand, he sprinted through the remnants of the army to the barricade at the tunnel mouth. He vaulted clear over the defenders there, using his weapons to strike away any shots that managed to target him. He then spun the Kinjakan so that he landed on the circular end, and felt the familiar _hum_ of power as he kicked it into its transport mode. He careened toward the youma army at a breakneck pace, perched atop his impromptu unicycle while wielding its sister weapon with his free hand.

The youma army unleashed their firepower at him, but he veered right, then left, their attacks ripping up long swaths of the rocky ground on either side of him, spraying him with debris. He had to deflect a few more stray shots with the Gekkaja—and then he was on them.

At the last instant before he collided with them he spun into a low slide along the ground, skidding right between the legs of a youma as she tried fruitlessly to grab at him, before using the Gekkaja to hack clean through her ankle as he slid past. On the other side he sprang back up, flipping right over the head of the startled youma behind his first target. He hooked the circular blade of the Kinjakan around her neck as he went by, then used it to fling her over his head, sending her crashing into a group of youma behind her. He landed on the Kinjakan again, running over the fallen monsters as he rode it deeper into their ranks.

He was centimeters away from death countless times as he fought his way through the teeming horde, but the speed and sheer audacity of his attack served him well, catching his foes off guard. And eventually, after fighting through chaotic scramble after chaotic scramble, he burst out the other side of the youma army.

Now he really gunned the Kinjakan, rocketing along the ground toward where Kiima had described seeing Akane. He could see no one standing, but his eyes searched every strewn body that he passed for any sign of her. _She's gotta be alive! I'll find her... wake her up... get her to Doctor Tofu to treat her wounds... Please, just let her be all right!_

He raced on, farther and farther into the cavern, until he neared the edges of where their army's advance had reached. Still he found no sign of Akane. _Did I miss her back there somewhere?_ he wondered, unsure of whether to double back or press on.

And then he saw her.

A choked cry escaped his throat, as he jumped off the speeding Kinjakan, stumbling forward to stand by the pile of bodies in front of him. Akane's body lay among them, unmoving, staring into the cavern floor with lifeless, unblinking eyes. Her neck had been snapped by a vicious blow, and her left arm and leg hung askew as well.

Ukyo, Shampoo and Kodachi lay there as well, their bodies sprawled one over another. From her wounds, it seemed that Kodachi had been stabbed in the stomach several times, while Shampoo had bled out from a slash across her throat. She was draped over the others, the last to fall. Ukyo's wounds weren't obvious at first, and Ranma even had a half-second of hope that she might still be alive, but as he tried to move her, her head rolled limply over, and he saw that most of the left half of her face had been blown completely away.

Ranma sank to his knees, his eyes staring blankly at the hideous sight before him. Dry sobs shook his frame, and he felt a cold, empty despair smothering his thoughts. It was a familiar despair—the very same despair that had claimed him at Jusendo when he had thought Akane dead. But this time there was no mistake, no possibility of her suddenly waking up to console him. She was dead, brutally dead, and there was nothing he could do except clutch her cooling body tight to his chest and howl in anguish.

But eventually, even through the clutches of his grief, he heard a persistent memory echoing through his mind. Loofah's voice, speaking to him. Admonishing him. _"Whatever happened, whatever will happen... the important thing is to do what you can for the people you still can help."_

Angrily he shook his head, trying to block the thoughts out. But they continued, in Ryouga's voice now. _"This will be your chance. Wait until the shooting stops... and once that happens, attack. And don't let up. Not for anything."_

Those words hit him even harder—the realization that stopping here would be abandoning the dying charge the lost boy had given him. He raised his head, tear-tracks staining his face, and looked down at the still form of his fiancée. As he did so, he heard her voice in his thoughts. Memories from the previous night, when he had tried to tell her how much he didn't want her to come. _"I know,"_ she had said to him. _"But this is too important."_

_"You understand that, right?"_

"Yeah..." said Ranma—barely audible—as he lowered her body back to the ground and closed her eyes. "Yeah, Akane, I understand. And don't worry. I'm going to take care of it. I'm going to take care of it all. You just... don't worry."

With that he rose to his feet, picking up both his weapons as his gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in everything before finally coming to rest on the youma army. His mind analyzed everything with an icy detachment, all his talent and ingenuity bent to one purpose, and one purpose alone.

He was going to destroy them.

It wasn't long before he had decided what his plan would be, and he acted on it instantly. There was no time to waste. While he had been grieving, the youma army had thrown together a small platoon of about forty monsters and sent them running after him. Even now they had covered more than half the distance, but he was not worried. They would not reach him in time to stop what he was going to do.

Ranma got back on the Kinjakan and shot away, racing toward the very center of the huge cavern. It didn't take him long to reach it, at which point he skidded to a halt. He then looked down once more at the two weapons he held. The Kinjakan and the Gekkaja. Fire and ice. Heat enough to flash fry a human instantly, cold enough to survive the mountain-melting flame of Saffron's Tenka Shunmetsu Kokyudan. He had both powers at his disposal now. It only remained to put them to use.

He twisted the crescent blade of the Gekkaja down, and felt a chill permeate the air as its freezing powers activated. He then jammed the blade into his other hand, forming a protective coating of magical ice around where he grasped the Kinjakan. _There,_ he thought, ignoring the pain. _This should let me use it without completely frying myself._

Then he deactivated the Gekkaja, and twisted the circular blade of the Kinjakan. Immediately, trails of steam began to rise from the ice as the weapon melted away at the ice encasing his grip. It wouldn't last for very long, but he didn't need it to.

And so, using the superheated weapon as his partner, he began to walk the spiral steps that were now second nature to him. Performing the technique using this variant method required a few adaptations, of course, but he improvised those on the fly.

The youma rushing toward him were getting closer all the while. An energy beam burned through the air by his head, while a spear ricocheted off the ground near his feet. But his steps did not falter, as he drew the spiral in tighter and tighter, winding the coiling temperatures with his movements, with his Soul and Body of Ice. Then, at last, he reached the center, and thrust his fist skyward with a corkscrew motion and a shout.

_"Hiryu Shoten Ha!"_

* * *

Herb's eyes widened as he saw the raging whirlwind explode to life far behind the enemy lines, stretching its howling vortex all the way up to the arched ceiling. Rushing forward to the mouth of the tunnel, the Musk Prince took a position next to Loofah as he craned his neck for a better look. "Ranma..." he said, half to himself.

"What does that fool boy think he's doing?" asked Loofah, perplexed. "A Hiryu Shoten Ha might have done a fair bit of damage if he'd been able to crash it into the main youma force, but what can it accomplish all the way back there?"

The dragon prince didn't understand either... but he couldn't for a moment believe that Ranma didn't have something planned. He looked at the Hiryu Shoten Ha, studied its peculiar positioning... and as he did, a memory came into his mind. A memory of the final moments of his final duel against Ranma atop Mount Horaisan.

And then he realized what was about to happen.

He whirled back to Loofah, urgency suddenly in his voice. "Take cover!" he shouted.

The elder looked up at him, blinking. "What? Why? At that distance, there's no way a Hiryu Shoten Ha could—"

_"Take cover!"_ Herb roared, now turning to everyone near the tunnel mouth. "All of you, take cover! _This isn't just a Hiryu Shoten Ha!_"

* * *

Ranma stood at the center of the tornado he had created, his eyes focused on his target through the screaming winds that whipped about him. The ice protecting him from the Kinjakan was almost gone, so he tossed the weapon aside, breaking the remaining ice as he did so. The weapon was promptly sucked up into the vortex, the better to feed the whirlwind with its heat.

Then Ranma looked toward the ceiling, gauged that the time was right, and stepped out of the tornado's eye himself, allowing the winds to rip him off his feet and hurl him upward.

Angling his body left and right, the Anything-Goes heir rode the air currents, aiming his trajectory exactly where he needed to go. The higher he went, the more oppressive the heat became, until at last he reached the point where he could slam his fingers of his free hand into the cavern's stone ceiling, latching on with all his strength. By then, the heat felt as though it was going to boil the flesh from his bones. He could barely think straight, but he forced himself to continue.

The last time he had used this technique, the only battle auras powering it had been his own and Herb's. And even then, their ki had been released into the open air above Mount Horaisan, giving it the chance to spread and disperse.

Not so here. The cavern was completely closed off from the sky, trapping every last bit of battle aura that had been expended within it. Instead of rising into the sky, the ki had risen to _this_ point, guided by the arching ceiling to gather here, at the cavern's center. Not just Herb's battle aura, this time. Not just Ranma's battle aura. The battle aura of friends, and the battle aura of rivals, the battle aura of warriors known and unknown. The battle aura of every elder, of every grandmaster, of _every single one_ of the thousands of martial artists that had fought and died on the battlefield below. It was all there, sucked in and concentrated by his Hiryu Shoten Ha.

Waiting to be given form. Waiting to be used.

_The first step is done,_ Ranma thought. _The power is ready. Now I need to open up a new channel for it. After that, I'll be ready for the final move._

He stabbed the Gekkaja into the ceiling above him, then twisted the staff to turn the blade into the active position once more. Intense cold started to emanate out from it, and immediately he hurled the weapon corkscrewing down toward where the youma army lay spread out below him. The last time he had used this technique, it had been to smash the Dragon Tap at Jusendo and save Akane's life.

Now the only thing he could use it for was to avenge her death.

_"Hiryu Gyoten Ha!"_

* * *

Far below, the sudden tornado had drawn the attention of much of the youma army, as they turned to try and figure out whether the strange new phenomenon was a threat to them or not. So most of them were watching as the Gekkaja shot spiraling down from above like a shooting star, forming a second, diagonal whirlwind in its wake. The intense cold of the magical weapon was able to draw a large degree of heat after it, and the Hiryu Gyoten Ha swelled even as it struck ground in the center of the youma formation, centered around where the Gekkaja had embedded itself into the rock.

Dozens of youma were thrown about or ripped apart at the whirlwind's point of impact, and those nearby scrambled to get away, giving it a berth of at least ten yards on all sides. Perhaps they thought that was a safe distance. Perhaps they thought the whirlwind was the full extent of the attack.

If so, they soon realized how wrong they were.

* * *

High above the battlefield, Ranma struggled to remain conscious amidst the terrifying concentration of ki that he had accumulated—so much power that it was dangerous even in this unfocused state. Already his clothes had ignited in several places, and his vision was starting to swim. But he ignored all of it. This was the crucial moment.

He could feel, could _sense_ the balance shifting in the energy that was compressed into the air around him. It was tipping toward the new path he had carved for it, the heat drawn by the cold. The gigantic mass of expended battle aura was exactly where he wanted it, balanced precariously, ready to fall at a moment's notice.

Ranma focused down through the tunnel of the Hiryu Gyoten Ha, targeting the locus of cold embedded at the far end of it. Then he drew back his fist, and thought of Akane, lying dead on the ground. He thought of Ryouga, Ukyo, Shampoo, Kodachi, thought of going through the rest of his life, day in and day out, carrying their absence in his heart. He felt the cold despair grip his heart once again... and this time he embraced it. _Focused_ on it. Gathered it to his arm in the coldest, most desolate aura he had ever achieved.

Then he hurled that aura down at the youma who had birthed it, his hand blurring in a corkscrew punch. The balance tipped, and all the gathered energy roared down the Hiryu Gyoten Ha, forming into a ki blast of unbelievable power as it went. The wake of its passing ripped the air from Ranma's lungs, incinerated most of his shirt, and carved second-degree burns all along the arm he had used to direct it. Even so, he screamed out the name of his technique, as he called down destruction on the ones who had killed the girl he loved.

_**"Hiryu Korin Dan!"**_

The ki blast smote the earth with a force that made the one he had used against Herb look like a tiny firecracker. It struck right in the center of the youma army, the shockwave reducing countless numbers of the tightly-packed monsters to dust as it exploded outward in a huge sphere of destruction. Those fortunate enough to be on the outermost edges of the blast were merely flung through the air, their limbs twisting and snapping as they were scattered like so many broken toys. In the space of a few seconds, the scene below had been turned from a battlefield into a ruin, with an enormous, gaping crater where an army once had been.

In total, there were perhaps as many as a few hundred youma left standing at the edges of the crater, all of them staring in mute horror at the destruction. The broken bodies of several hundred more littered the crater's outer slopes. A thick haze of youma dust hung in the air, choking it like a macabre fog.

Then the triumphant roar of many voices rose up from beyond the curtain of dust, followed by the thundering of many footsteps. Moments later, the remnant of the human army burst through the haze in an all-out charge, like shadowy phantoms ripping their way through the veil into the real world.

What was left of the youma army broke and ran, scrambling over each other in every direction in their terrified attempt to escape. The human army, for their part, charged straight across the cavern with one single purpose, bearing down on the looming edifice of the Dark Kingdom palace.

* * *

Her body phasing through the floor of the throne room and down through the ceiling of the chamber below, Queen Beryl then fell the rest of the way to the floor and landed in a crumpled heap, gasping for breath. With one hand she clutched at her chest, where Endymion's rose was even now embedded.

It was killing her, sending cracks spreading relentlessly through her body. And most horrible of all, she could feel exactly what powered the magic that was ripping her apart from the inside out. His love for that _damned girl_.

She grabbed hold of the rose and ripped it out with a small sob, tossing it to one side. Then, holding her hands at the source of the wound, she tried to use her healing sorcery once more. But it was a hopeless effort. Her earlier battle and injury had left her far too spent to mount yet another such recovery. The queen beat her fist into the ground in quiet, helpless fury as she crawled forward, looking for one of her retainers.

_I will pull all my elites back from the battle to kill her,_ Beryl thought. _I don't care if it weakens the other defenses. I don't care if that army sacks the entire Dark Kingdom, so long as she dies!_

The queen managed to reach one of the walls and used it to prop herself up, hobbling along it until she reached a corridor. Farther down its length she saw several youma running in her direction. "Kill her for me," she rasped out, neither recognizing nor caring who the youma were. "Someone, _kill her for—_"

But her words were cut off as the terrified youma ran right past her, one of their shoulders colliding with hers and forcing the queen to struggle to keep her balance. Incredulous, Beryl watched their retreating backs for a moment, before finally noticing the faint sounds of battle coming from down the hallway. Sounds of battle that were far closer than they had any right to be.

She dragged herself forward, finally reaching a small balcony overlooking the palace exterior. Stepping out onto it, she saw spreading out before her what had caused the youma to flee.

The human force was attacking the palace itself, crashing through the efforts that the few remaining defenders made at stopping them. Wolf beastmen were running straight up the towering rock face at unbelievable speeds, grabbing youma that were trying to shoot from the windows and flinging them out to plummet all the way to the rocky ground below. Winged warriors flew this way and that, carrying other fighters and dropping them straight onto the battlements, where they carved their way through their enemies. The youma manning the walls were utterly demoralized, fleeing left and right—as though they had seen something that had shaken them to the very core.

And what in all the hells had happened to her _army?_

She staggered back from the balcony, turning to run, but she tripped and fell, crumpling to the ground once more. How had all of this happened? Her ultimate triumph had been so close at hand! But now foes were appearing from every direction. Her servants were all dead or fleeing. Her own power was broken and exhausted. There was nothing left she could do.

Except... there was. There was one last chance to crush her enemies. One last way to make them suffer for what they had done.

Clenching her fists and calling on all her remaining willpower, Queen Beryl teleported once again.

* * *

Ranma's face was buried in his hands, his breath shuddering in and out as he knelt on the ground in front of the crater his Hiryu Korin Dan had torn into the earth. He had done it. He had turned the tide of the battle, killing countless youma in one single outpouring of destructive force. But he felt no pride in the achievement. He felt nothing at all. Just a sick emptiness as the full scale of what he had done sank in.

His allies had long since gone, routing the enemies before them as they made for Beryl's palace. He had not followed them; he hadn't had the heart for even more killing, not after this. In that moment he felt like a used-up shell of a human being, ready to be thrown out. There was only so much you could give, before there was nothing left.

Around him, absent the roar of battle, the cries and pleas of the wounded youma that his attack had strewn everywhere rose up in a ghastly chorus. He wanted to shut his ears, but couldn't, transfixed by the knowledge that it was he who had done this. It wasn't guilt he felt, not exactly, but the sheer weight of the suffering he had inflicted wore at his soul nonetheless.

He didn't know how long he remained there like that, but it was interrupted in an unexpected way. The faint touch of a hand, feather-light, on his shoulder.

Ranma whirled, stumbling to his feet, his hands raising to a guard position. He might have expected an ally coming to find him, or an enemy coming to attack, but what he saw instead caught him completely by surprise.

It was a woman. He could not guess her age. She did not appear old, exactly, but she gave off an air of quiet wisdom and dignity that felt somehow even more ancient than Cologne. She was dressed in a pure white gown, with white hair streaming down on either side of her in two long ponytails. She looked down at him with a look of compassion... and as he looked closer at her, Ranma realized that her entire body was slightly transparent.

He opened his mouth, trying to form words, but none came. Eventually, the woman spoke. "I am sorry," she said, her voice gentle. "I did not intend to startle you. It seemed as though you were in need of comfort. And..." She hesitated, turning away slightly so as to not quite meet his eyes. "And I... did not wish to be alone either. Not during this final hour."

The pigtailed fighter was still stunned, but eventually he lowered his fists. "Who... who are you?" he asked, still not quite believing this to be real.

"I was once Queen Serenity of the Moon Kingdom," she told him, simply and without equivocation.

The name caused Ranma's eyes to widen, and brought back memories of what he had heard from Altine's hologram during the war council. "You..." he breathed. "But aren't you... dead?"

"I linger," was the queen's reply. "I died from using the Ginzuisho too heavily, but my fate is still tied to it. I have watched over my daughter her entire life, from the moment she was born until now, the moment she faces her final battle." Then a small almost-smile flitted around Serenity's lips. "Though I must confess, I never imagined that she would arrive safely at that battle thanks to the intervention of a Dark Lord."

"Oh, uh, that..." Ranma scratched the back of his head, completely thrown for a loop by this whole conversation and answering on pure autopilot. "That whole thing was... well... it was kind of a long story..."

"I imagine..." agreed the queen. "But whatever the motivation behind your actions back then, I thank you for what you have done here." As she spoke, a look of sorrow crossed her face, and her next words were barely above a whisper. "The story of House Serenity has been a very long one as well... and thanks to your valor, it may yet end with saving the world one last time..."

* * *

Beryl lay prostrate before the orange, vein-wrapped cocoon in which Metallia was sealed. Even now, she could feel Endymion's magic destroying her. She didn't know if this one last plea would work, but it was all she had left to try.

"Queen Metallia," she begged. "Please lend me your power. Please give me the power to defeat that hateful girl!"

The cocoon began to pulse in reply, purple energy writhing within it. "Very well," came Metallia's response, in a distorted voice. "The time has come to bestow hatred and suffering to all living creatures in this universe. Queen Beryl, kill everything and everyone... and _turn the world pitch black!_" Then, with an immense surge of power, the cocoon burst open, sending an ichor-like liquid spilling out of it as the power of the ancient demoness raged free.

Beryl gasped, even as the purple energy shot forward to engulf her. Then she screamed in agony, the power and malice of the abomination coursing into her soul like a flood of poison, an irresistible pollution that no human could possibly withstand.

And yet, despite it all, one tiny part of her resisted Metallia's influence. One tiny candle amidst the gale of rage leveled against it, one tiny piece of her soul that tried to reject being consumed. The love—however selfish, however misguided—that she still held for Endymion.

But it was so small, and the demon's hate was so limitless, and it hurt so very badly knowing that he had only ever loved another. And so she finally surrendered it, allowing it to be snuffed out under Metallia's grasp, ending the pain.

And—though to all outward appearances it seemed otherwise—it was then that Queen Beryl of the Dark Kingdom truly died.

* * *

It was the presence that Ranma sensed first.

Subtle to begin with—an uneasy, prickling sensation that he couldn't quite dismiss. And it built, swelling in strength until he was certain that it was not his imagination. He turned to Serenity's ghost, troubled. "Something's... wrong. What's happening?"

"The end of this age-old struggle," she answered, her voice quiet, her face set like stone. "The moment when the future of your world stands balanced on the tip of a knife."

Ranma licked his lips. "What do you mean? We've won, right? We've got the Dark Kingdom beat!" Even as he spoke, he felt a faint vibration building in the ground under his feet.

Serenity nodded. "You have beaten the Dark Kingdom. But to save this planet there remains one more task to complete. One more foe that must be overcome."

The constant vibration was growing, becoming a loud rumble that shook the entire cavern, even as the queen continued. "The enemy has been backed into a corner," she told him. "Every other avenue of attack that would have stopped my daughter has been countered. By your sacrifices. By the sacrifices of her Senshi. By the sacrifices of her prince."

Ranma was having to fight to keep his balance, so violent had the quaking of the earth become. Stalactites above were shattering, the fragments raining down along with chunks of the cavern ceiling. The ghost, of course, remained unperturbed. "And so the forces of darkness face the very situation they most wished to avoid," she said. "Despite their best efforts, the heir of the Moon Kingdom stands before them. And she is at full strength, the true power of the Ginzuisho still unexpended. Every plan has failed them. Every tactic has been thwarted."

The queen turned away from Ranma, looking across the cavern to where Beryl's fortress stood. "And now they have no choice left... but to play their final card."

Then Ranma sensed Metallia's full presence manifest.

He had heard Cologne and the others discuss Metallia's power before. He had heard it many times, in fact. He had heard their descriptions of what the demoness could do. What she _had_ done. But before that moment, it had been nothing but words.

As the abomination's aura crashed over his mind, he experienced for himself what it truly meant to face a creature with the power to lay waste entire worlds. He felt like an ant in the path of a hurricane as he crumpled to his knees, clutching at his head in a futile attempt to block it out. Nothing he had ever sensed before came even remotely close to preparing him for the overwhelming power and hate that beat against his soul. He heard a voice screaming, as though from a great distance.

It took him several seconds to recognize the voice as his own.

* * *

Everywhere around the world, crowds stared up at the sky in fear as swirling black clouds engulfed the heavens from one end to another, cutting off the sun. Cities were plunged into darkness as power plants spontaneously failed, cutting off the manmade sources of illumination as well. Panic began to grow, as humanity tried to come to grips with what was happening to their world.

On a rooftop in Tokyo, two injured cats also stared at the sky. But unlike the humans around them, they both knew exactly what the disturbances portended. They could feel for themselves the power of their ancient enemy, reaching out to enfold the entire planet.

"It's the end," said Artemis, as the white cat stared upward in trepidation. "The end of the world has come!"

* * *

Metallia's release was devastating to the nearby human army, and nowhere more so than the medical camp. Many of the healers were incapacitated by the crushing aura of the demoness, and the effect on the injured was even worse. Some began to thrash and convulse, worsening their wounds, while others who were already near death were killed instantly. Screams filled the air, screams of terror and agony.

But for Beneda, the effect was altogether different. Despite being in her human form, despite the appearance of her Jusenkyo-granted body, Metallia's power touched something deeper, something inside her inmost being, something that made her blood boil in response to the call of her mistress.

A moment before, she had been bandaging a deep cut in the chest of a young Silk Lotus warrior. Her hands had been moving mechanically, as she tried not to think about Ryouga. Tried not to think of how many more of her friends might be dead. Tried to lose herself in saving as many lives as she could.

Then she felt the all-consuming hate wash over her.

She crumpled to her hands and knees, her eyes going wide and bloodshot. Her entire body trembled as her breath shuddered in and out. She could feel the strength of the demoness reverberating in her own heart, so loud that it seemed to drown out all other thought or reason. It would have been so easy to give in, to lose herself in the power that permeated her.

But then, slowly, she lifted her head until she was looking in the direction she knew Metallia was. _"Damn you!"_ she screamed, audible even above the cacophony of pain-filled cries around her. "I'm not yours anymore! I'll _never_ be yours! It's _your_ fault Ryouga is dead... you and your _damned crazy war!_"

Then, summoning all her strength and willpower, she picked herself back up and turned toward the patient she had been treating. His body was wracked with convulsions, but she held him tight, trying her best to keep him immobile while she resumed treating his wounds.

_I don't care what happens,_ Beneda thought, as she worked with all of her healer's skill, worked to save life rather than destroy it. _This is the way I've chosen to live. And for all her power... it's a better way than Metallia will ever be capable of understanding._

* * *

A pillar of dark energy exploded up out of the heart of the Dark Kingdom palace, ripping straight through the structure, and the cavern ceiling as well. Then, rising from the hole it had made came a mass of huge black petals, wrapped around the source of the terrible presence. It ascended higher and higher, lifted by a dark, thorn-encrusted vine, until at last it passed through the cavern ceiling and into whatever was above.

Ranma drew in deep, shuddering breaths as he tried shakily to stand. At this point his sixth sense had been almost completely deafened by merely being this close Metallia—and even so deafened, the crushing pain was nearly unbearable. But he rose to his feet nonetheless.

He noticed that Serenity was looking at him, and that she seemed impressed by his resilience. But when she spoke, it was on more immediate matters. "I am sorry," she told him. "But it is time for me to depart. What is about to take place... I must witness it to the very end."

As she spoke, Ranma caught another glimpse of the deep sorrow that lay behind her eyes. He didn't know exactly why it was there... but he did remember what she had said to him shortly after appearing. That the ghost didn't want to be alone for what was about to happen. "Can I..." he began, then plunged forward. "Can I come with you?"

The queen regarded him for a moment, then gave a single, grateful nod and reached out her hand toward him. Ranma took it, and a tingling sensation swept through him, like a small electric shock. The next thing he knew, they were standing on a plain of ice, staring at the revealed form of what had been inside those black petals.

She was _huge_, towering over the surrounding landscape. She wore a blood-red dress, and her skin was a pale, corpse-like color. Her green hair rose straight above her head, and her shoulders were adorned with small spikes protruding from her flesh. Her arms were spread out as she looked up toward the dark, roiling clouds above, as though she was claiming the very heavens for her own.

"That's her?" asked Ranma, even though the unbelievable power rolling off her as she stood at the center of the apocalyptic scene answered the question well enough. "That's Metallia?"

Serenity nodded. "The demoness has infused herself into Beryl's body and soul. Any trace of human compassion that might have remained in her is gone now. All that remains is an incarnation of hatred, whose only desire is to crush every other living thing under her heel."

Ranma took a deep breath. "So how can we stop her?"

"We cannot," replied the queen. "Your strength—formidable though it is—will not avail you against a creature such as her, and the power left to me in this state is barely more than a whisper. We have only one chance. Only one hope."

The pigtailed fighter followed her gaze, and for the first time noticed a small figure walking across the icy plain, a tiny spot of color against the white. "Sailor Moon..." the pigtailed fighter murmured. "Can she really beat that... thing?"

"She can." The queen's response was unhesitating, and there was no doubt whatsoever in her voice as she said it. But even so, there was no joy in it either. In fact, if anything, that simple pronouncement of victory carried with it the greatest sadness that Ranma had yet heard from her. He looked over at Serenity's ghost with a puzzled expression... and then he understood.

"But she isn't going to survive either," he said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. "That's what all this is leading up to, isn't it? Just like you. You beat Metallia, sent everyone else forward to be reborn... but you couldn't bring _yourself_ back, could you? That means... if _she_ dies out there..."

"It is the only way." The words ground out of the queen, one by one, and this time there was no hiding the grief in her voice. "Only an heir of House Serenity has the power to end this threat for good. But the cost..."

Her voice broke, and it was some time before she could continue. Even then, her voice was raw and shaking. "My daughter will do what I was too weak to fully accomplish. It is her destiny. The reason I sent her forward to this exact time. The reason I provided Luna as her teacher. It was all to prepare her for this moment." She buried her head in her hands as she crumpled to her knees, her entire body convulsing in broken sobs. "I led her to this. _I led her to this!_"

Metallia had noticed the girl now, and seemed to be saying something to her. Given how far away they were, though, Ranma couldn't hear the words, and from his position behind Sailor Moon he couldn't see if she gave any response. Then the demoness raised her arms, black lightning flashing between her palms, and hurled a building-sized bolt of dark magic down at where Sailor Moon stood.

She made no move to defend, and the magic hit her head-on, blasting the surrounding ice high into the air and obscuring all sight of her. Ranma's heart caught in his throat, but then he noticed that there was something unnatural about the way the ice was moving. It wasn't a normal blast pattern; the ice rose in one direction to form a tall, spindly tower, then froze back into place.

Then the ice shot out to form a small platform at the tower's top, and Ranma saw that Sailor Moon was standing on it, unhurt. Except she was no longer dressed in her sailor fuku, but rather a regal, flowing white gown.

Nor was that the only change. Where once everything had been crushed under Metallia's chaotic, corruptive presence, now a new sensation began to permeate the surroundings, actually pushing back against the vile aura. It felt like a crystal-clear note of perfect pitch and heart-rending beauty, played at just below hearing. It reverberated in Ranma's soul, deep and powerful as the ocean, rippling out from the small girl as she stood there, motionless, with the ancient demoness towering over her.

_She's doing it,_ thought Ranma. _She's starting to use her full power._

The thought jolted him into action. He had to do something. He couldn't just stand here and watch her die. He didn't give a damn how powerful this Metallia was. He had lost his friends to her. He had lost the girl he loved to her. He wasn't going to let the demon-bitch take one more thing. Not from anyone.

He broke into a run, darting past the surprised ghost as he sprinted across the frozen plain. The footing was treacherous, but despite the occasional stumble on the ice he made good time. He didn't know what he could hope to accomplish against an enemy like that. But even if he only distracted her for a second—even if he could only spit in her eye and curse her—he would do everything he could to help tip the balance.

Ahead, the two foes were beginning to move. Sailor Moon aimed a short rod with a golden crescent on its end at Metallia, as magic began to gather at its tip. Metallia, for her part, raised her arms once more, an even greater surge of black lightning crackling to life between her hands. The demoness hurled the attack down at Sailor Moon in a long, destructive stream, while at the same time the young girl released her own spell. It took the form of a blazing golden sphere that surrounded her, before expanding out toward her enemy.

The two attacks collided in midair with a cataclysmic smash, and shockwaves from their impact ripped across the icy plain. Ranma halted his run, raising one foot and then slamming it down again to create a deep foothold. Then he crossed his arms protectively and braced himself as the wave of displaced air crashed into him.

That force drove him back, his feet grinding trenches into the ice as he went. He lowered his body, trying to present the smallest possible profile to the battering air currents, and he managed to halt his backward slide. Then he moved a foot forward against the constant gusts, driving it down again to secure a new foothold farther on. Then he did it again. And again, and again, increasing his speed with each step.

Ahead, he could see that Metallia was talking again, while keeping up her magical assault. Between the distance and the raging winds there was no possible way to hear what she was saying, but he could see the spiteful look on her face as she spoke. It looked like Sailor Moon was shouting something back, and eventually, something she said enraged the demon queen such that her never-ending stream of chaotic energy gained an additional surge of power.

The shockwave caused by that plowed into Ranma like a wrecking ball, and his footholds broke under the impact. He went flying backward, but he managed to angle his trajectory into a flip that allowed him to drive the fingers of one hand into the frozen plain. His body twisted back and forth in the air like a demented kite, those five fingers his only anchor. The air howled past, ripping shards of ice out of the ground and slashing him with them like so many tiny knives. But his grip did not falter.

Cracks, however, were starting to appear in the ice around his fingers, and he knew his purchase would not hold much longer. Pulling himself forward with all his strength, he slammed his other hand into the ice farther on. Then he repeated the process, pulling himself forward hand over hand, moving relentlessly toward the titanic struggle.

With each passing second Sailor Moon was getting backed farther and farther into a corner. The area covered by her pulsing sphere of magic was starting to shrink, while Metallia's power kept on increasing. Ranma clawed his way forward, screaming out challenges and obscenities at the demon queen that were swept away by the winds immediately after leaving his mouth. He was too far away. He wasn't going to reach them in time.

Then, impossibly, Metallia gathered up an even _greater_ surge of power. Ranma's eyes went wide as the demoness hurled it down. It struck, the force of its impact against the princess's sphere shattering the ground for a kilometer in every direction. Ranma's handhold was obliterated, his body blasted back through the air with such ferocity that he was almost knocked out. But he hung onto consciousness, angling his body to ride the air currents back to the ground, where he latched on again with both hands.

The sphere around Sailor Moon had contracted until it was barely visible, and still Metallia kept up her punishing assault. _Damn it!_ Thought Ranma in silent fury. _How can anyone win against something like that? I have to do something; I can't let her fight it alone!_

Then suddenly, he sucked in a breath of surprise. Because, as he watched the battle rage, he saw that Sailor Moon was not alone. Not anymore.

They stood around her, their arms reaching out to support and enfold hers. Their bodies were transparent, much like the queen's ghost had been. Two on Sailor Moon's right side, two on her left. Clad in colorful sailor fuku, they all joined their princess in her unflinching stand against the abomination before them.

As the five of them joined hands, Ranma could feel an instantaneous shift in the air. Metallia continued to unleash her magic, but the sphere surrounding Sailor Moon was no longer showing any signs of shrinking whatsoever. He could feel _power_ building, power that was deep and fierce and joyous and pure, power that eclipsed anything he had yet felt. He could see energy coiling in front of the girls, red, green, blue, yellow, white, all swirling together to focus at a single blinding point.

And more magic kept flowing in, and more, and more, gathering from all directions, shredding the surrounding darkness as it came. It was so bright that Ranma could barely stand to look at it, and so beautiful that he couldn't stand not to.

Metallia let out a gasp, jerking back in shock and fear. Her assault faltered, the shockwaves abating, allowing Ranma to fall to his knees. He immediately climbed to his feet, running toward the battle again, even as the five girls released their attack. A strobing pink sphere began to move toward the demoness, small, but its size increasing as it went. By the time it reached its target it was huge enough to engulf the giant wholesale—which it did, as Metallia screamed in horror and pain. Ranma saw her entire body disintegrate, as the Senshi's magic ate away at her until there was nothing left.

He continued to run toward Sailor Moon, his eyes locked on her. The ghostly images of the other Senshi had vanished, leaving the girl alone once again atop her icy tower. _Please,_ Ranma prayed as he ran. _Please, let that not have taken too much from her. She's still standing! Maybe it was enough. Maybe—_

But then, as he watched, Sailor Moon toppled backward, her regal gown fading back into her normal Senshi uniform as her limp body crumpled. _No!_ thought Ranma, hoping that it was nothing more than exhaustion, but knowing that this was much worse. It was all going exactly as the queen had said it would. _No, no, no!_

He sprinted forward as fast as he could. Ahead of him, the glowing pink sphere was still expanding, filling up his entire vision. It reached Sailor Moon's tower and disintegrated it as it passed, causing her motionless body to plummet down into the swirling energy.

Ranma let out an angry shout, and increased his speed even more toward the falling girl. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for him as he channeled his ki, shooting across the icy plain in a barely-followable flicker of speed. The sphere of magic was now a solid wall in front of him, still expanding across the ground. He threw up his arms defensively as he careened straight toward it.

The instant before he hit, Queen Serenity's ghost swooped in behind him, and laid a spectral hand on his back. Ranma felt a sudden warmth flow through his entire body, and the next instant he hit the spell head-on, running through it with only slight resistance.

And then, with one final burst of effort, Ranma launched himself into the air with a mighty leap toward the Senshi's falling form.

* * *

Sailor Moon's eyes blazed as she launched her final spell at Metallia, the amalgamation of all the Senshi's power, of all their loves and hopes, of all their prayers for a better world. The Ginzuisho made their wishes into a reality, projecting them at the demoness with a strength that Metallia could not resist. It was, in the end, the only thing that could have defeated her.

And it cost Sailor Moon everything.

She had known it would. A part of her had known, from the moment she had confronted the demon queen, that this would be the end of her. She had used up all her own immense magical might. She had used up all the magic that her friends had given her. She had used up all her strength and will and resolve, and still the Ginzuisho had demanded more. In the end, the only thing she had left to give was her life.

So she gave it.

She felt her gown vanish, replaced by her sailor fuku as she fell back onto the tower's platform with a limp _thud_. She could feel her life draining from her, as the Ginzuisho took it, used it as fuel for what she was doing. Everything that had gone so wrong, everything that had been so cruelly lost in this battle... she would put it all right again. No matter the price to herself.

"Everyone," she whispered, knowing she didn't have much time left. "Thank you." Then she slumped, her eyes closing as she felt her consciousness bleeding away.

The glowing sphere that was her spell soon engulfed the tower she lay on, disintegrating it. She fell toward the ground, disappearing into the pink glow. Even through the dying haze she felt vertigo pull at her stomach from her uncontrolled fall. She could not move, but some small part of her tried to brace herself—mentally, at least—for the coming impact.

Then, suddenly, she felt strong arms warp around her, as someone leapt up to tackle her from the side. Their collision slowed her previously-unchecked descent, as both of them careened away on a new trajectory. She could feel the other person maneuvering as they fell, trying to bleed off as much of the fall as he could in air resistance, before finally twisting to put his body between her and the ground. They hit hard, tumbling over one another before finally coming to a rest with him kneeling above her.

The next moment she felt a sudden pain burst across her face as he slapped her. "Wake up!" she heard him shouting, as though from a very great distance. _"Wake up!"_

With what seemed like an impossible effort, the dying girl managed to open her eyes just a tiny crack. The boy standing over her was a disheveled mess, with cuts, bruises and burns covering his body. Looking at him, she had the strangest feeling of familiarity, but her clouded mind couldn't quite place it. He was looking down at her, desperate concern on his face.

He reached one hand behind her head, cradling it, while placing his other hand on her chest. "I saw it!" he told her. "I saw your friends. I saw them giving you their power. I don't know if you can take mine too, but... it's the only thing I can think of to try." He took a deep breath, then added in a whisper. "Please let this work."

The boy clenched his eyes shut, focused, and Sailor Moon felt a sudden warmth begin to emanate from the hand on her chest. The next instant her body jerked in a violent spasm as a wild burst of pure _life_ shot into her.

It hurt. It hurt like liquid fire poured down every nerve and vein in her small frame. But it also allowed her to suck in a breath of air into her lungs, bringing the world back into focus slightly. The Ginzuisho quickly pulled that infused life energy right back out of her, but the boy just kept pouring more in.

The demands of the thing she was doing were so huge that his power was a tiny trickle in comparison. But it was a trickle that flowed through her body in a constant stream, with just enough in her at any given time to keep her alive from one moment to the next. She felt like a sieve poised over a bottomless abyss, always draining but never quite empty.

"Come on!" the boy shouted down at her. "Come on, _fight!_ You're gonna let yourself die like this? After you've come this far? After you've done this much?"

Slowly, Sailor Moon raised her gaze to meet his directly. She saw worry for her in those eyes—and beyond that, sorrow, heartbroken sorrow over someone else. She wanted to tell him that it would be all right, that even now she was fixing everything, but she didn't have the strength.

And it would have been a lie anyway. She realized that, as she looked into his eyes. Even if she fixed everything else, if _she_ died here she could tell that it would still make this boy sad. It would grieve all the loved ones she was doing this for, the ones who had a place in her soul, and she in theirs. If she really wanted to make everything right again, if she really wanted to deny the evil she had vanquished any shred of victory...

...she had to go back with them.

The boy continued to pour his life energy into her, his teeth grinding with effort as he opened every last reserve of his strength. It was a slender thread on which to hang her survival, but it was a slender thread that she somehow knew would not break. She clung to it, hanging onto life as her spell expanded and expanded, engulfing more and more with its radiance. As it did, a simple refrain began to run through her thoughts.

_When I wake up in the morning, a pure white curtain of lace is rustling in the breeze. The cuckoo clock in the room says it's seven o'clock, and Mom's voice says "You'll be late if you don't get up!"_

_ I'm still half-asleep, and I think, "Please let me sleep for three more minutes."_

_ I'm late for school every single day like clockwork, my teacher makes me stand out in the hallway, and I get failing grades on my tests._

_ The crepes we'd all eat on the way home. We'd gaze dreamily at a party dress in a show window. The little things bring such joy and I'm happy. I wish..._

_ I wish I could go back to that kind of normal life._

_ I want to go back._

* * *

Ranma woke up with a jolt, thrashing on his futon as he fought his way clear of the blanket wrapped around him in raw, primal panic. Muddled, disjointed images flashed back and forth through his memories, horrible images that his mind couldn't fully process, yet his emotions were already in the middle of reacting to. _What the...? How...?_ he thought, as he tried to make sense of it all. _Cologne? Ryouga?_ Then cold dread clutched at his heart. _Akane!_

He lurched toward the door of the Tendo guest room and flung it open, stumbling out into the hallway. For some reason he was utterly drained, as though every last drop of his strength had been wrung out of him. Even so he struggled onward recklessly, propelled by visions of death. He did not stop until he reached the door to Akane's room and burst through it headlong.

She lay there wrapped in her usual blankets, and in that frantic moment her sleeping form seemed to Ranma the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He tumbled forward, unable to check his momentum, as the manic, fear-granted energy left him in a rush, leaving only the bone-deep weariness behind. Akane's bed caught him at the knees, and he flopped forward across her as he collapsed.

He could feel her warmth stir groggily beneath him—a real, tactile sensation that served to further dispel the inexplicable panic and inexplicable images. He let out a giddy laugh, his hands trembling as raw relief joined the already-potent cocktail of off-kilter emotions running through him.

In a few seconds, he knew, Akane was going to wake up and realize that he had jumped onto her, in bed, for no reason that he could explain—even to himself. But the prospect of swinging mallets in his immediate future did absolutely nothing to dampen what he felt as the night terror was eroded by the reality around him. Already, the details of what had made him so afraid were evaporating like morning mist before the rising of the sun.

"Just a dream..." he muttered to himself. And that was, indeed, the most obvious explanation by far.

But even so, there was a small part of him that did not quite believe what he said. A small, nagging voice, a touch of his danger sense, that told him it had been something real. And something that was not over for him yet.

"Just a dream," he repeated once again, trying to convince himself. He clutched Akane's sleeping body tight, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against his chest. Proof that—whatever had actually happened—she was alive.

And for the moment, that was all that mattered to him.


	4. Remembrance

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ranma 1/2 or Sailor Moon in any way, shape or form. All associated characters, trademarks, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takahashi and Naoko Takeuchi. I'm just telling some stories about them.

**Author's Note:** Blargh. My apologies once again about just how long this chapter took to get out. Was under some pretty insane deadline crunch for a few months at work, and then I ended up getting hit by some nasty recurrent illnesses as well that really set me back and messed things up.

Anyway, here at last is the far-too-long-delayed final chapter of the interlude. And with this fic complete, keep an eye out for Part Two to start up next—which will be titled "The Dark Lords Ascendant". Hope that you enjoy (and that you have a blessed Palm Sunday)!

* * *

Chapter Four: Remembrance

Ranma's feet moved along the top of the chain-link fence. Not at a jog. Not this time. His hands were jammed into his pockets, his head bowed in thought as he walked away from Furinkan High School without paying much attention to where he was going.

He was troubled, more troubled than he had been in a long time, and yet he could not explain why. It had all started with that weird, terrifying dream last night, the details of which he could no longer even remember. And yet... there was more to this than just a simple dream. He was sure of it. Somehow.

But beyond that vague impression he had no idea what was wrong, despite wracking his brain all day, paying even less attention in class than normal. It seemed like the more he tried to make sense of it all, the more muddled it became. Still he refused to give up.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to glance up, just in time to see Mousse riding past. The nearsighted warrior was pedaling hard, with deliveries for the Nekohanten strapped to the back of his bicycle.

Ranma sighed. As if mysterious dreams weren't enough to worry about, there was also the added annoyance of Shampoo's obsessed suitor to deal with. He had returned from China barely a week ago, sporting a Jusenkyo curse the idiot had picked up while there. And he had attempted to use water from that same spring to curse Ranma to turn into a duck as well. The pigtailed fighter could see the scene in his memories, as Mousse tried with all his might to—

_—pull Ranma free of the Jusendo reservoir, even as Saffron's deadly egg threads wound up the chain he was using to do so. Ranma had to shout at him to drop the chain, knowing that if Mousse kept trying to save him it would only result in both their deaths—_

The pigtailed boy stumbled, nearly losing his balance on the fence. He watched, wide-eyed, as Mousse cycled out of sight, oblivious to Ranma's shock. What had _that_ been? The briefest flash of a... memory? It had been senseless, little more than a burst of déjà vu... but at the same time it had felt so _right_.

Sighing, Ranma rubbed his head. _Maybe I'm just losing it..._ he mused. _I mean, seriously. Mousse trying to save my life? No way that'd ever happen._

He continued home, his thoughts even more confused than before. Nothing further interrupted him, and eventually he reached the outer wall of the Tendo compound and pushed his way through the gate. On reaching the other side, he noticed that Ryouga was sitting on the porch, staring off into space.

Of course. Ranma's headaches just wouldn't be complete if the lost moron hadn't found his way back here as well. The lost boy glanced up as Ranma shut the gate behind him, and they looked each other in the eye—

_—as Ryouga clicked open his umbrella, the attacks from the entrenched youma pouring down the corridor between them. Ranma knew, in that instant, what his rival was about to do, but he could do nothing to prevent it as Ryouga hurled himself around the corner and—_

Ranma sucked in a hiss of breath, wrenching his eyes away. He eventually looked back, expecting mockery from Ryouga for his strange behavior. He realized, however, that the lost boy was giving him a strange look as well, like someone trying to place a distant recollection. The awkward silence stretched on, until it was unexpectedly interrupted by a voice from behind Ranma.

"Um... excuse me?" It was a female voice, one Ranma could not place, but which was maddeningly familiar all the same. He turned, and saw that it was a young woman with long silver hair tied back in a simple ponytail, standing just outside the gate he had just entered through. She was wearing a long green dress, and was looking at them with a hesitant, hopeful expression.

The pigtailed fighter felt another wave of déjà vu hit him. Not as drastic as the flashes of combat earlier, but he definitely felt as though he should know this girl from somewhere. "Who're you?" he asked, his tone wary. Something weird was definitely going on here, and he didn't like how little he knew.

"I see... You don't remember either." The girl sighed and nodded. "I thought it would probably be that way."

"Remember? What do you mean, 'remember'?" asked Ryouga, his expression a troubled frown.

The girl took a deep breath. "It's a long story, but I can explain all of this," she told them. "We should get the rest of the Tendos and Mr. Saotome together first, though. They'll all need to hear it too."

* * *

"...and then I actually saw it myself. The scale of the spell was beyond belief. A wall of pink energy that just... washed over everything in sight. That's the last thing I can remember in the Dark Kingdom. The next thing I knew, I was waking up back in my room at Doctor Tofu's clinic."

Ryouga stared intently at the strange, green-skinned creature, who had been a human girl right up until the moment she had poured hot water over herself as a demonstration. She had said her name was "Beneda", and the story she told them had been utterly outlandish even by _his_ standards.

And yet... he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of familiarity that he got every time he looked at her, both in her human form, and now even more so in what was apparently her original form. He _did_ know her from somewhere. He was certain of it. Even the details of her story had rung true to him on some subconscious level, despite the fact that his conscious mind was boggling at what it was being asked to believe.

Nabiki, however, did not appear to be nearly so credulous. "So then why are you the only one who still remembers all this?" she asked, giving the youma a disbelieving look.

"I... don't think I am the only one, actually," Beneda responded. "If Sailor Moon's cat really is who the Dark Kingdom rumor mill thought she was, then she probably remembers too. And for the same reason."

She looked across the room at each of them. "Wind back your memories this far, and all of you can just pick up and go forward again from whatever you were doing originally. Maybe with a little massaging to make any wrinkles fit, like how Doctor Tofu remembered me as recently signing on as his apprentice. But me..." She grimaced. "My memories from this time say I should be cringing in the service of a demoness who doesn't even _exist_ anymore. There just isn't any way for the 'me' of back then to fit with the way the world is now. So winding back my memories just didn't take."

Now it was Ranma who spoke up. "But if it's like that, then it means the memories are still in _our_ heads somewhere too. Just... covered over. We might be able to get at them. Somehow."

Nabiki's eyebrows shot up, her expression incredulous. "Don't tell me you're actually believing her story, Ranma? She doesn't have proof of any of this!"

"I believe her!" Ryouga surprised even himself with the instinctual vehemence of his defense. "It's the only thing that makes sense out of these weird... half-memories that keep hanging around in the back of my mind. Haven't you had them yourself?"

But Nabiki's only response was to look at him like he'd lost his mind, and Ryouga realized that the mercenary girl _hadn't_ been having the same flashes of déjà vu that he had. But if that was the case, then what was the difference between them?

"Ryouga's right!" exclaimed Akane, raising a hand to her temple as she tried to concentrate. "There's something we're not remembering. It feels... it feels almost like it did when Shampoo used the Xi Fa Xiang Gao on me to erase my memory of Ranma! There's something there, but it's just... always out of reach."

The lost boy clenched his fists, and closed his eyes. He had never been all that proficient at the more mental aspects of martial arts, but he had picked up a few simple meditation techniques here and there on his endless travels. He didn't know if they would help any, but he had to try something. This constant not-quite-knowing was starting to drive him crazy.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Expel all thoughts, and take full control of the mind._

Once in that state, he tried to somehow locate his suppressed memories, forcing past the walls that stood in front of them when he tried to bring to mind what Beneda was describing. To his mild surprise, he actually felt like he was making progress, but the end goal remained frustratingly out of reach.

"Keep telling us more about what happened," urged Ranma. "Especially details! That might trigger something."

"Um..." Beneda began hesitantly, then started to rattle off random facts. "When I first came here... it was Akane's room that I spent the night in. She said I wouldn't want to share the guest room, since Ranma was a pervert." Another spark of familiarity flashed across Ryouga's mind, but it remained disconnected.

"Before that... when I was coming here, I tried to drain some ki from Ryouga without him noticing, to heal myself. But... I found out later that he knew what I was doing all along." Yet another flash of memory, this one even stronger than the last.

"And... and when Ranma found out about it, Ryouga told him..." The youma's voice broke, just a little bit. "You told him that you didn't care what a 'youma' was, or what the 'Dark Kingdom' was. You said you cared about who _I_ was. And then... you said that—"

"—you were my friend, and anyone who wanted to get to you would have to go through me first!" Ryouga shouted, leaping to his feet. In that instant, everything finally _clicked_, and the walls around his memory came bursting apart like their Breaking Point had been hit. _"Beneda!"_

The look on the youma's face melted into one of pure joy and relief. "Ryouga!" she said, lunging forward impulsively to wrap the lost boy in a hug and bury her face in his chest.

"I was so scared," she said at length, her voice muffled as she still clung to him. "I was scared that you wouldn't remember. That I'd be all alone, the only one who was still a part of that time."

Ryouga chuckled. "Like you could really get away from us that easily," he said, giving the youma's silver, metallic hair an affectionate ruffle.

* * *

Akane was the next to regain her memories, pulling on her previous experience at breaking free of the Xi Fa Xiang Gao to do much the same thing again. Ranma followed shortly thereafter. But no matter how hard they tried, they were unable to convince Nabiki, Kasumi or their fathers to even make the attempt, much less break through the memory blocks.

Kasumi, at least, seemed to agree that it wasn't all some elaborate trick, although Ranma got the feeling she did so more out of politeness than anything else. Nabiki was openly scornful, suggesting that they were the victims of some hallucinogenic magic product, as per one of their usual escapades.

Soun and Genma more or less avoided the question altogether, making Ranma wonder if the two martial artists were truly as free of the flashes of déjà vu as they claimed to be. Did they not remember... or did they not _want_ to remember how they had run in the crucial moment? Ranma didn't know which it was.

And really, he didn't much care anymore.

In the end, the four of them were left alone, sitting around Tendo koi pond. Mostly they were silent, as they tried to acclimate themselves to the better part of a year's worth of experiences now returned to them.

_—Akane's sightless eyes staring off at nothing, her neck brutally snapped, Ukyo and Shampoo dead on the ground next to her—_

Ranma shook himself and quickly spoke up, breaking the silence. "So we're right back where we were?" he asked. "What about Metallia? If _everything_ got turned back to the way it used to be..."

Beneda shook her head. "She's gone. Believe me, if she still existed, I would know. You shouldn't think of this as going 'back in time.' Not exactly. It's more like... reshuffling reality."

The youma's expression grew thoughtful as she continued. "From what you described to me, I think Sailor Moon must have made a Wish back there. Probably for things to be 'back the way they were' or something like that. I doubt she even consciously realized what she was doing. And the effects of that kind of magic can be... unpredictable and haphazard. To say the least."

"It's definitely tying my brain into knots," muttered Ryouga. "It was just a normal day to start out with... and now suddenly I remember that I have a _girlfriend_." Then he paused, frowning in thought. "_Had_ a girlfriend." Then he paused again. "_Will have_ a girlfriend. So confusing."

Akane glanced up at that. "How long _is_ it from now until Akari is going to show up?"

"Well, let's see..." Ranma said, searching his newly-recovered memories. "It was right after Nabiki beat that weird debt-based martial artist, right? And right now, it's still a couple weeks before the Principal is going to get back from America. So that means..."

But his voice trailed off, his eyes widening as the full significance of the situation they were in hit home to him. "The Principal..." he breathed, turning to face the others and their puzzled faces. "Guys, don't you realize what this means? We already _know_ the Principal is coming back! And it's not just that. Think about it! We know practically everything that's going to happen for the next _year!_"

* * *

Of course, to really make the most of their advance knowledge they would have had to keep the information amongst themselves. But—tempting though it might have been—they knew that at least the other participants in the final battle deserved to remember the legend-worthy feat they had all helped accomplish. Accordingly, they began to spread the knowledge from person to person, working to uncover each person's memories as Beneda had with them.

The difficulty of doing so varied greatly, and they never quite figured out a pattern for which people would have more trouble than others. Kuno, surprisingly enough, had the easiest time of anyone by far. They had barely even begun when his eyes widened and he stumbled back into the nearest chair with a small _thud_. After a few speechless moments he excused himself, hurrying away without another word to anyone, a haunted look on his face.

His sister, on the other hand, resisted even the suggestion of the attempt tooth and nail. Ranma was sure, from the sheer vehemence of her rejection, that she was experiencing flashbacks like the rest of them, but the unbalanced girl kept refusing to confront them in any way whatsoever. In the end, despite multiple attempts, there just wasn't much they could do.

Ukyo was somewhere between those two extremes, requiring some strenuous effort on her part, but still ultimately manageable. By the time they reached the Nekohanten, they found that Cologne had detected the manipulation of her memories all on her own, and that the ancient master had already restored not only her recollections, but also those of Shampoo and Mousse.

No one knew for certain why some people remembered so easily, while others never could. Some of them had theories, though. Ranma was of the opinion that the main factor was simply the mental discipline of the martial artist in question. Mousse thought that it had more to do with the level of dissonance between the person's life at the point of forgetting and their life at this past point they subsequently found themselves in.

Akane suggested that it might also have something to do with being right there at ground zero when the spell was cast. Ukyo agreed... and went even further, suggesting that the spell might have left the ability to reclaim their memories _on purpose_. Either in thanks for their part in thwarting the Dark Kingdom, or in preparation for some part they might end up playing later on.

They never could decide whether it was one of those reasons, a combination of them, or something else entirely. But whatever the cause, one effect was constant: they never managed to arouse more than the briefest flickers of déjà vu from anyone who was not among the martial artists that had participated in the assault on the Dark Kingdom.

* * *

Most of the fighters in the immediate vicinity were easy enough to restore to remembrance of their missing year, and Cologne had also called back to China to make sure their allies there had regained their memories as well. Nevertheless, there were a few people with... unique challenges associated with them.

"So Konatsu was—_is_—living with his stepmother?" Mousse asked, as he tried to remember specific details from the brief explanation Ukyo had given him back when he had first met the ninja in the original timeline.

"And stepsisters," agreed Ranma. "If things are back the way they were then he's probably back with those hags again... and that's a fate I wouldn't wish on _anyone_." The pigtailed fighter paused for a moment. "Well. Maybe Happousai. But no one else. And definitely not a decent guy like him."

Mousse looked around Ucchan's at everyone who had assembled for the "Rescue Konatsu (Again) Mission." Ukyo—the chief organizer of the venture—was cooking up a quick dinner for them before they set out, while talking with Akane at the same time.

Kuno, to Mousse's surprise, was also there, sitting on one of the stools at the far end of the okonomiyaki grill. And to Mousse's even greater surprise, there had not been a single bombastic declaration of love, unwanted embrace, or challenge to Ranma from the kendoist the entire time. He actually seemed thoughtful, and even _reserved_, words that the Joketsuzoku warrior had never imagined he would have cause to apply to the older boy.

"Do we really need so many?" Mousse asked his rival. "Just how powerful are these stepsisters and stepmother anyway?"

"As far as a straight-up fight goes? They ain't even worth mentioning," was Ranma's reply. "But as far as running around being completely _annoying_ with all their stupid tricks? You have _no_ idea. Even if five of us are kinda overkill, I guess Ukyo isn't in the mood for a repeat of how much trouble we had last time."

Mousse nodded. "Fair enough," he said. "Your count is off, though. It's six, not five."

"Really? Six?" was Ranma's response. "Who else did she ask?"

The nearsighted fighter opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of the restaurant door opening behind them. "Nihao!" came a familiar voice. "Last deliveries for great-grandmother done for tonight. Shampoo is ready for battle any time."

Ranma turned to look at the beautiful Joketsuzoku warrioress, his eyebrows going up in surprise. "Shampoo! You're coming on this?"

"Of course," replied the girl, speaking as though that should have been obvious. "Ninja-boy is fellow warrior, who fight alongside Joketsuzoku for most important battle in tribe history, and even save life of Elder Loofah. Is no way Shampoo leaving him with nasty step-family."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Kuno, slamming the point of his bokken into the floor for emphasis as he stood. "This fellow is our comrade who helped us save the world! It would be disgraceful to leave him in ignorance of the noble feat we all undertook together!"

"Well we shouldn't do it on an empty stomach," interjected Ukyo, gesturing toward the okonomiyaki she had now finished cooking. "Come on, dig in everyone!"

Most of them needed no second bidding, but Mousse noticed that Ranma hung back, a worried look on his face. "Something wrong?" the hidden weapons master asked quietly.

Ranma's lips pressed into a thin line. "Nah. It's just... I'm just surprised Ukyo went so far as to ask Shampoo. And I hope it doesn't backfire. The one way to really screw this thing up is if we start fighting each other, and you know how the girls can get. Especially Akane and Shampoo." He sighed. "I hope Ukyo at least warned Akane about it beforehand."

"Warned...?" Mousse gave the pigtailed fighter a puzzled look. "Ranma... Akane _was_ the one who came to the Nekohanten to ask for our help with this."

Ranma's jaw dropped slightly, and he turned back to look at the bustle around the okonomiyaki grill. Mousse did so as well. The three girls, along with Kuno, were all chatting amongst themselves. Their body language was not altogether unguarded, true... but neither was it hostile. They were talking about the upcoming fight, the food, even occasionally a notable event in their past weeks.

Eventually, Ukyo glanced up at her fiancé. "Hey Ranchan, what're you waiting for?" she asked. "Your food's going to get cold!"

At her words Ranma shook himself a little, clearing most of the surprise from his face. "Oh, uh... yeah," he said walking over along with Mousse. "I was just... thinking about something I never expected to see."

* * *

The actual rescue of Konatsu went off with only one or two minor catastrophes—which by Nerima standards meant that it was a smashing success. When all the dust had finally settled Konatsu's memory had been restored, his stepfamily pounded into unconsciousness multiple times, and his employment at Ucchan's blissfully reinstated.

It was cause for celebration, and celebrate they did. The ninja had been the final member of the Nerima participants in the battle of the Dark Kingdom left unreminded of what had happened. With the task of remembrance complete, it now became a matter of moving forward into the future. Armed with their original memories of the coming months, of course.

At least, that was how it was for most of them. For Ranma, however, there remained one last obligation to the past that he felt he had to perform. Which was why one early morning, a few days after they had gotten Konatsu settled, the pigtailed fighter found himself riding the subway toward Juuban.

Normally he would have gone over the rooftops, but this time he felt like keeping his approach more low-key. He watched the tunnel walls blur past, wondering if he was making a big mistake. His every instinct told him to just leave things be, to not risk stirring up unnecessary trouble. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn't an option. This was something he had to do.

Eventually the train reached its destination, and Ranma followed the milling crowd as it flowed out of the car. It was still a bit of a walk from the station to his final goal, and he spent the entirety of it pondering just how exactly he could explain everything that had happened.

Despite his slow pace, he reached his destination long before he reached any kind of answer. Not that he was particularly surprised. He would have to wing it, just like he usually did.

Thanks to her visit to Doctor Tofu's clinic, Ranma had long known that one of the Sailor Senshi was named Mizuno Ami. Later on, their occasional visits to Ucchan's had revealed the other two as being "Hino Rei" and "Tsukino Usagi." Or "Usami", as the blonde girl sometimes remembered to call herself. But it hadn't been until he and Ryouga had actually seen them transform while spying on the fight at Haneda airport that they had been able to connect which was which.

Supposedly, two more Senshi had also joined them later on, but he hadn't seen them in person, and had no clue as to their secret identities. It didn't much matter, though. They weren't the ones he needed to talk to. A quick phone book search and a little bit of digging had told him all he needed to know for what he had to do.

He leaned against a nearby streetlight, his hands jammed into his pockets, glancing around uncomfortably as he waited. He didn't know exactly when she was going to leave for school, so he had come early. Apparently much too early, as it turned out. He waited there for almost a full half-hour, and was starting to wonder if he hadn't somehow gotten the wrong address, when at last he saw the door of the Tsukino residence burst open and a girl with long blonde pigtails come racing out.

Ranma took a deep breath. This was it. As she drew nearer and nearer, he turned to face her directly, looking her right in the eyes...

...as she ran right past him without a moment's pause, without the slightest hint of recognition on her face.

For a moment, Ranma just stood there, puzzled. Had it just been an act, to keep from blowing her cover? No, he knew from experience that she didn't have anywhere near that perfect a poker face.

Then had the spell affected its caster's memory as well? But even if it had, Beneda had been sure that at least her talking cat—Ranma suppressed a shudder—would have remembered for the same reason the youma had. Surely by now the cat would have been able to restore her master's memories, just as Ranma and his friends had done.

He glanced over his shoulder at the girl's back as she continued to run... and at last he understood. _This was your wish to begin with, wasn't it?_ he thought. _A normal life._

And it was absolutely perfect for him as well. It meant he could do what he had come to Juuban for, without any risk of kicking off another round of misunderstandings and battle. "Hey!" he called out after the girl's retreating form, causing her to pause in mid-run and look back at him.

So many things he could tell her, so many ways he had thought of to say it, but in the end he just used the two words that summed it up in the simplest way possible. "...thank you."

The younger girl cocked her head, clearly not understanding what in the world he was thanking her for. He went on. "I know this must not make any sense to you, but... you did something important. Real important. For everyone in the world, and most of 'em don't even know it. But... especially for me. If you hadn't done what you did..."

His voice broke just slightly, as the image of Akane's mangled body flashed through his mind, an image that had taken up residence in more than a few of his nightmares of late. "Anyway, it's only 'cause of you that I didn't lose a whole lot of people I care about. So... I had to say thanks. Thank you."

With that he turned and began to walk away, leaving a completely befuddled Usagi in his wake. He wanted to be gone before she could collect her thoughts enough to start asking questions he didn't want to answer. _Enjoy your normal life, Sailor Moon,_ he thought, as he gave her a backward parting wave. _It's too bad, though. I'd have enjoyed seeing you in action again, like you were during that last fight. That was really something incredible._

* * *

Ranma, as it turned out, wasn't the only one with unfinished business in Juuban.

Beneda took a little longer to pursue it than he had. She waited both until after everything had settled down, and until Ryouga's lost wanderings once again brought him back to Nerima. She had wanted someone with her on the journey. Not so much for physical protection; the Senshi had all forgotten them, and she already knew from Cologne what she would find at her destination. It was more a question of emotional support, and for that there was no one better than her first and dearest friend in the human world.

They walked down the Juuban streets, Beneda in her human form, leading Ryouga by the hand so that he didn't wander off. They exchanged small talk as they went, about what had happened in Nerima during the lost boy's latest absence. Konatsu's rescue. Kurenai Tsubasa's reappearance. Happousai trying to attack Ranma with the Weakness Moxibustion... only to be dismayed at its complete and utter failure, thanks to Cologne still remembering the cure from the first time. Ryouga had a particular laugh at her description of the pounding the old letch had taken, confident in his assumption that Ranma wasn't strong enough to hurt a fly.

At last they reached their goal: a small café familiar to both of them, but with particular significance to Beneda. It was _La Crepe_, the establishment built on the location of the Juuban portal to the Dark Kingdom.

She took a deep breath, then stepped forward and opened the door. Inside there were a few patrons, respectable business given that the lunch rush was hours past, but not crowded by any means. She barely noticed as the two of them made their way to a table on the far wall, or when Ryouga ordered for both of them.

For a few minutes she hesitated there, putting it off while Ryouga watched in silence. Then, finally, she reached out and ran her fingers along the wall where the portal had been.

What she felt there—what anyone would have felt there, if they were familiar enough with magic—did not surprise her. After a few seconds she let her fingers drop away from the wall. "Cologne was right," she said quietly, not sure whether she was talking more to Ryouga or herself. "The seal has been restored. Stronger than ever before. I guess... I guess I just had to see it for myself."

Ryogua looked thoughtfully at the wall himself. "Well... Couldn't there be a way to... I don't know... get around it?"

Beneda shook her head. "This is the magic of House Serenity, the Ginzuisho working in its highest state," she said. "You'd need more power than... well, let's just say that I couldn't imagine any human or youma making so much as a dent in it. At least... not without making bargains with the sort of things you should never, ever make bargains with." Queen Beryl had once made such a bargain, she knew. And Beneda also knew how that had ended.

"So there's no way for you to get back there?" Ryouga looked at her, concern on his face. "How do you feel about that? Are you all right?"

The sometime-youma shrugged, glancing away uncomfortably as she tried to make sense out of her own emotions. "I... don't know. I thought I'd resigned myself to not going back a long time ago. Even if the seal weren't there, they still think of me as a traitor. It's not like they would welcome me back with open arms. It's not like I even enjoyed my life there in the first place. And now the fighting between the two worlds can finally stop. But... I just wish..."

She sighed, then shook her head. "I wish I could have at least _tried_ to explain to them. About why I did what I did. About how there's a better way than what they've been living."

The lost boy reached across the table and gave her hand a small squeeze. "Well, look at it this way," he told her. "At least now they can _choose_ their own path for themselves, without having the likes of Metallia or Beryl over them. I don't know what they'll make of their freedom... but it's a damn sight more than they had before. It's in their hands now, one way or another."

Beneda nodded. "I... suppose. Anyway, I'm sorry for making you come all this way for nothing, Ryouga."

"Don't apologize," was the lost boy's firm reply. "However bad it was there, it was still your home. And I know what it's like to be separated from your home. Just... don't forget that you've got a _new_ home now. And a new family."

The sometime-youma smiled at his words, and felt herself choke up a little as she replied. "Thank you," she said. Then she looked up as she saw a waiter approaching their table with the food Ryouga had ordered. "Well, at least we'll have something to show for this trip. We should be able to enjoy some good crepes, at least."

Which is exactly what they proceeded to do, digging into their food with gusto. The conversation soon shifted back to less weighty topics, and after a little more than half an hour they were ready to head back to Nerima.

As they departed the café, Beneda took one last glance over her shoulder. And, even though it seemed as final a resolution to that part of her life as she could imagine, she still felt a slight flicker of inexplicable apprehension squirm through her stomach as she looked back at the blank wall on which the portal to the Dark Kingdom had once opened.

* * *

Life went on, as life had a tendency to do. Many familiar events happened to Ranma, although the events involving those who hadn't been with them on the Dark Kingdom assault often ended much differently thanks to his foreknowledge. The Gambling King, for one, was a bit more straightforward to deal with now that Ranma knew to simply go with cheating from the start. It wasn't any less _annoying_ this time around, though.

Still, for every familiar event that Ranma faced there often seemed to be a completely unexpected one right alongside it. Even though most of the planet had forgotten the events of the rewound time, all nine tribes that had taken part in the battle still remembered, and they had seen him strike the decisive blow that had annihilated most of the youma army. From them, his renown began to slowly spread through the greater martial arts world, and he and his friends began to find themselves caught up in battles, challenges and pleas for aid with a notably greater frequency and danger than even they were used to.

It was, in many ways, a heady experience for the young fighter, but it was tempered by a growing worry that had been building inside him since the Dark Kingdom battle. In fact, it had been building since Jusendo. The increased danger barely fazed _him_... but all too often Akane was one of the ones who came along for the ride.

Ranma tried everything he could think of to discourage it. He was still haunted by nightmares of what had happened to her in the Dark Kingdom, and none of these new escapades were anywhere near as important as that battle had been. He was _vehemently_ opposed to her involving herself, but she was just as stubborn in her insistence on helping.

Their disagreements on the matter typically escalated into shouting matches that ended in one of them storming off in a huff. Or sometimes sent flying, on the occasions when Ranma's tendency to fall back to insults really got the better of him. All in all, it was getting nowhere fast.

However, as it turned out, Ranma was not the only one who noticed that Akane was increasingly out of her depth for the danger she was facing.

* * *

Panting slightly, Akane sped down the street as fast as she could in the direction she had last seen Jing-Wei flying. The girl was a member of the Phoenix People and—by her account—Ranma had saved her life from a youma during the chaos of battle in the Dark Kingdom. Ranma claimed he didn't remember it, not to mention that Jing-Wei had died later on anyway... but the experience had still been enough for her to have the (utterly predictable) reaction of falling head over heels in love with Ranma anyway.

The youngest Tendo rounded a corner, and caught sight of Jing-Wei once again, locked in combat with Mousse and Shampoo. The hidden weapons master had managed to snag Jing-Wei's ankle with one of his chains and was digging in his heels as he tried to drag the flying girl's careening trajectory down to earth. Shampoo, for her part, was grappling her in mid-air as the two of them fought over the locket Jing-Wei was holding.

Akane hurried to catch up. That locket was the cause of the current trouble, a magical trinket the bird-girl had found somewhere. It—supposedly—would grant "three perfect dates" between whoever wore it and the one who put it around their neck. However, not being exactly the brightest person in the world, Jing-Wei had made the mistake of boasting how she was going to win Ranma's affections with it, resulting in most of the Nerima regulars learning of its capabilities as well.

The results had been predictable.

As Akane watched, Shampoo soon snatched the locket out of her opponent's grasp. Jing-Wei made a desperate lunge to get it back... which left her _completely_ open for the elbow that Shampoo swung around into the side of the bird-girl's head. Jing-Wei's fight became an uncontrolled plummet, which Shampoo ended by driving the Phoenix warrior straight into the ground.

"_No!_ How _dare_ you do that to Shampoo!" shouted Mousse, outraged, as he whipped a huge mace out of his sleeves and leapt to stand protectively in front of Jing-Wei's unconscious body. "You will pay for that!"

He then proceeded to lunge at Shampoo, swinging. The Joketsuzoku girl rolled her eyes, and when her vision-impaired suitor was just about to strike her she shouted out _"Stupid Mousse!"_

Mousse's arms locked up on hearing her voice, his swing stopping in utter panic as he realized what he had been about to do. Shampoo took full advantage of it, plowing a kick directly into his oncoming chin that snapped his head back and sent him flying through the air in a tangle of limbs, ending as his body crashed through the wall of a nearby store.

A sigh of disappointment escaped Akane's lips. Mousse would have been a good ally to have, as determined to keep Shampoo from using the locket on Ranma as Akane herself was. But Shampoo knew his weaknesses far too well.

Still, there was no time for regrets. Shampoo was just up ahead, the locket held in one hand. Akane skidded to a stop and took up a fighting stance. "I'm _not_ going to let you use that thing!" she warned.

Shampoo raised her eyebrows a little, then began to lazily toss the locket up into the air and catch it again, taunting the other girl with it. "Akane think she can stop me?" the Chinese girl asked, amusement in her voice.

Akane gritted her teeth, well aware of how outmatched she was. Even so, she wasn't about to back down. With a loud _kiai_ she charged in, her guard held in front of her as she tried to ready herself for the inevitable counterattack. Her eyes were fastened on Shampoo as the distance between them dwindled, until Akane was almost in range to—

—and then she was face-down on the ground, pain exploding through her skull. _An axe kick..._ she thought, as the pieces of what had just happened began to pull themselves back into semi-coherent memory. She could have _sworn_ that Shampoo had been about to kick her in the ribs, and had defended accordingly, but that had just been a feint. The real attack had slammed down onto her head from above, driving her into the street.

Slowly, she pulled herself back to her feet. Shampoo was still there. She stood a few steps backward now, still tossing and catching the locket without any interruption as she watched Akane. Shaking herself, the Tendo girl took a stance again, then launched herself in another attack.

It met with the same result. The _exact_ same result. Shampoo used the exact same feint she had used the previous time, and achieved the exact same success. _So fast..._ thought Akane, as she staggered back to her feet a second time. _And how does she switch her target without giving away that she's doing it? I can't read her attacks at all!_

Akane threw herself forward in a third attempt, all her senses now focused on watching for that axe kick, ignoring the feint altogether. So, of course, _that_ time what had been the feint became the real attack, and Akane was sent tumbling away by a kick that exploded into the side of her rib cage.

It continued like that for what felt like an eternity. Shampoo never once used any technique other than a kick off that single leg, and she never once interrupted the steady rhythm of throwing and catching the locket. Again and again Akane was knocked down. Again and again she kept climbing back to her feet. Each time, she felt a tiny bit closer to seeing through Shampoo's feint, but each time it remained frustratingly out of reach.

Wheezing and wobbly, Akane attempted to catch her breath while propped up on one knee. Shampoo watched her for a moment, then spoke. "Akane need rest? Maybe Shampoo go have lovey-dovey dates with Ranma while wait."

Biting back a growl, Akane lurched up to a standing position once more. "I'm... not finished yet..." she panted.

The Joketsuzoku warrioress looked her right in the eyes. "Might as well be... since it look like Akane not even have skill enough to sense difference between real attack and fake."

Akane blinked, turning the other girl's words over in her mind. "Sense difference"? Was that the key? Her danger sense had served her well before in alerting her to the presence of attacking enemies, but she had never tried to use it on a smaller scale before, to aid in her reading of each individual strike. It would be a much more subtle, split-second difference to detect... but it just might be possible. Akane gathered herself and charged once more, this time turning her attention fully inward.

Another burst of pain sent her to the ground... but this time a surge of elated realization accompanied it. Shampoo had been right! It was extremely slight, but Akane had been able to detect a difference between how her danger sense had reacted to the feint versus the real kick.

Her limbs trembling, she pushed herself up one last time. She would have to put every last ounce of strength she had into this attempt. Taking a deep breath, she studied the Joketsuzoku girl, who was still tossing the locket as though she didn't have a care in the world. Then Akane hurled herself forward, trusting in the method Shampoo had indirectly described. _Wait for it... Here it comes..._

_Now!_

Shampoo's leg shot up, but Akane didn't fall for it, keeping her guard steady, then shifting it in anticipation of where the _real_ kick was going. The impact against her arms was bone-rattling, but she had _blocked_ it, and now she was in close with her opponent. Instinctively her hand shot out in a punch—

—which Shampoo leaned around, catching Akane's wrist and redirecting her momentum to slam her face-first into the wall she had been backing up toward this entire time. Her vision exploded into white as she rebounded off of it, landing flat on her back at Shampoo's feet.

For a moment, all was silence. Then Shampoo's voice come from above her. "Hmmm. Actually block kick. Maybe Akane not _quite_ as hopeless as look like."

Akane couldn't reply immediately, still trying to catch her breath and stay conscious. Shampoo turned, kneeling down to pick up the fallen locket, which she had dropped while defending herself in that last exchange. "Shampoo go to get dates with Ranma now. Akane not going to be stopping Shampoo, Shampoo think. But _maybe_, if Akane keep trying this hard... Akane is not dying again for while yet."

With that, the Chinese girl turned and walked off. She had gotten several steps before Akane called out to her. "Shampoo..." she said. "...thank you."

Shampoo paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Why Akane thank Shampoo?" she asked. "Shampoo only beat up rival, and give insult. If Akane figure out something from hearing insult, that not Shampoo concern."

Then the young warrioress looked away. "But if Akane _enjoy_ being beat up and hearing insult... then can come challenge Shampoo at Nekohanten. Shampoo accept, any time."

Akane stared up from where she lay at the wide blue sky over her. "...I might just take you up on that."

* * *

Of course, events in Nerima holding true to form, no one got exactly what they wanted from the magical locket. After a day filled with frantic back-and-forth running, fighting, plotting and theft, it was a recovered Jing-Wei who used the locket's power in the end... but ended up using it on Konatsu by accident.

After the spell-enforced "three perfect dates" were over she left again, distraught. Especially since—as they only realized after the fact—no one had thought to mention to her that Konatsu was actually a boy.

The next few weeks were a relative lull. Picolet Chardin made his appearance, and Ranma quite enjoyed thrashing him with the Parlay du Foie Gras on their _initial_ encounter, completely avoiding the dinner-debt he had accrued the first time they had first battled. Other than that, the only really new development was Akane's increasingly frequent trips to the Nekohanten to fight Shampoo. She unvaryingly returned from them bruised and bloody, much to Ranma's distress. He tried his best to convince them to stop, but to his surprise neither girl would listen to him on the matter.

But that aside, there were no notable incidents for a while... until a singularly interesting rumor finally filtered its way back to Nerima.

The Sailor Senshi were active again.

* * *

Beneda wandered up and down the darkened streets of Juuban, glancing back and forth while trying to hide her nervousness. Tonight was a bit more dangerous than the last time she had been here, since it seemed that the Moon Kingdom warriors had regained their memories just as the residents of Nerima had. Still, she was in her human form, and she had taken the extra precaution of putting her hair up in a very different style from the one brief moment when they had seen her in this body at Furinkan High.

So there shouldn't have been _too_ much to worry about. Still, her apprehension wouldn't quite go away. She didn't know what she would find—if she found anything. All she knew was that there had been stories of Sailor Senshi fighting against monsters.

_Could I have been wrong?_ she wondered. _Could the seal on the Dark Kingdom have been circumvented after all? Some other portal somewhere that didn't get locked shut? Is that why the Senshi are back?_

And if it was... if her people were attacking once again... what were they going to do about it?

_First things first,_ she thought. _I have to find out what's really going on._ She was searching the city, as she had been for the past few days. Nor was she the only one walking such a beat. She had requested help from some of her friends whose faces the Senshi would not be likely to remember: Konatsu, Mousse, Ranma in his female form. They were elsewhere, covering other ground.

A sudden scream broke her out of her thoughts. Her head snapped around, and she took off as fast as she could in the direction it had come from. Was this it? Had their search finally born fruit?

She rounded a corner, and saw a young girl lying sprawled out on the sidewalk. Beneda raced over to her, checking her for injuries, and was relieved to find that she was still alive. A quick examination revealed the cause of her unconsciousness: the tell-tale signs that her life energy had been drained from her.

Fortunately, the girl wasn't in any danger. In Beneda's expert appraisal, whoever had done this had made sure to leave just enough that it wouldn't risk any damage beyond fainting and temporary exhaustion. Which didn't sound like Dark Kingdom methods; standing orders had been to try and drain every last drop from their victims to feed Metallia. _If this is youma work, they're being led by someone a whole lot more compassionate than Beryl ever was._

Farther down the street, she caught sight of another prone body, and Beneda ran in that direction. A quick check revealed that this victim was in an identical state to the previous one. The sometime-youma kept on running, trying to catch up to the perpetrator, straining her senses as Doctor Tofu had taught her. Soon she zeroed in on a presence up ahead, one like nothing she had ever sensed before.

Putting on an extra burst of speed, she managed to catch up to the assailant. As it came into view, she saw that it was a wolf-like creature, almost half-again her height, with bared, drool-coated fangs. It had cornered yet another girl, towering over her as she trembled, terrified, against a wall.

_"Hey!"_ Beneda shouted, causing the monster to swing its head around and look at her. And even if the thing's aura hadn't given it away earlier, one look into its eyes confirmed that this was no youma. Beneda could see no sapience there, just a bestial cunning. _Whatever these things are, they're nothing I've ever heard about._

A low growl building in its throat, the creature spun and launched itself through the air toward Beneda with a cry of _"Lupos!"_ She leapt to one side, just barely avoiding its grasp as its clawed hand ripped through the air. It landed on all fours, its body immediately coiling and springing again.

Beneda was already off-balance from her previous dodge. As a youma it would have been a more even fight, but she could not avoid the monster's second attack in her weaker human form. The creature bowled her over, knocking her to the ground and pinning her there with a victorious howl of "Lupos! _Lupos!_" It seemed to be all the thing could say.

The currently-human girl struggled with all her might, but the thing was far too strong. She could feel a sudden and unnatural lethargy hit her, as the monster proceeded to suck in her life energy as well. _So this... is what it feels like..._ she thought, not without a certain dark irony.

_"Stop!"_

For the second time that night, the wolf-creature found its attack interrupted. It spun toward the rooftops, to face the most recent interlopers. Beneda turned her head to look as well, though in her case she already knew who she would see.

She remembered that voice.

Sailor Moon stood on the nearby rooftop, flanked by the four other Senshi and two cats, one black, one white. "The city streets should be safe for romantic walks at night, not for monsters to attack!" she continued, striking her usual pose. "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

The wolf-creature bared its fangs, then launched itself up at them in a blur of claws, fur and rage. The Senshi scattered, fanning out in different directions to try and catch it in a crossfire. Bursts of fire, lightning and golden energy began to criss-cross through the night air as the battle was joined.

Beneda pulled herself groggily into a sitting position, only to jerk in irrational fright as Sailor Mercury leaped down to check on her. "Are you all right?" the Senshi asked, concern in her voice. "Don't worry, you'll be safe now."

The sometime-youma couldn't help it; a small, half-hysterical giggle escaped her on hearing those words from one of the ancient boogeymen of the youma race, the sort of figures they told stories about to terrify their young. In a way—despite how little sense she knew it made objectively—Beneda was still more afraid of these five girls recognizing her than she was of the wolf-creature that had actually been attacking her. _They don't remember me,_ she reminded herself. _And even if they did, it'd only be as a random human they saved a year ago._

"I'm... fine," Beneda assured her. "Thank you."

"Good," Sailor Mercury replied. "You should hide over there and keep out of sight. We'll take care of this." With that, she turned and ran back into the battle to assist her friends.

Beneda complied, but only to the extent that let her keep an eye on the fight. It was not going well for the outnumbered monster. Soon it caught one of Sailor Mars' fireballs head-on, sending it flying back with its fur ablaze. A Crescent Beam from Sailor Venus slammed into the side of its head as it tried to put out the flames, staggering it further and leaving it open for the Moon Tiara to finish the job.

There was a blinding flash of light as the ancient Moon Kingdom weapon struck home, and with a scream of _"Cleansing!"_ the wolf-creature's body ripped itself apart into nothingness. All that remained was a single card, which fell to the ground and began to release repulsive black smoke.

* * *

Five minutes later, after assuring the other Sailor Senshi that yes, she was all right and pointing them in the direction of the other, more drained victims, Beneda let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the wall of a nearby building, closing her eyes.

"Well, looks like we finally found 'em," came a voice from above her. "I was wondering how long it was gonna take."

Beneda looked straight up, to see Ranma standing on the rooftop above her. "Looks that way," she agreed. "How much did you see?"

"Just caught the tail end of the fight," the currently-female martial artist said, as she stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped to land next to the currently-human youma. "Did that answer your questions?"

Beneda nodded. "All the important ones, anyway. I don't know what they were fighting against, but this _isn't_ a Dark Kingdom resurgence."

"Probably just some random monster," offered Ranma. "You see it all the time as a martial artist, honestly. Stuff like that demon-dog-swimsuit-thing that was going around drowning girls, or that stupid black cherry tree spirit, or the monsters we went out to help Shinnosuke and his Gramps wrangle. Usually it's someone like us who gets called in to deal with things like that when they pop up. Guess those girls are getting back into the same gig after all."

"It's what they do," agreed the sometime-youma. "Protecting your world is what they've always done. I suppose I'm not really surprised that their retirement didn't take."

"Heh. Well, still seems kind of a step down to me," Ranma said. "I mean, seriously. Going from a crazy, end-of-the-freaking-_world_ demon like Metallia to cleaning up small fry like this? I bet they're disappointed."

"Not everyone is as crazy as you, Ranma," Beneda reminded the pigtailed fighter with a roll of her eyes. "Some people actually _like_ a little less danger in their lives."

Ranma chuckled. "Well, to each their own. C'mon, let's round up Mousse and Konatsu and head back home."

Of course, if they had realized that these "random monsters" were, in truth, agents of an _entirely different_ end-of-the-world level threat with no relation to Metallia whatsoever, or that there were an additional _four_ more such world-destroying threats waiting in the wings, they would doubtless have had a rather different reaction. They remained, however, blissfully unaware.

* * *

His movements quick and stealthy, Pantyhose Taro stalked his prey from his position on the Nerima rooftops. He watched intently as his target walked below, completely oblivious to his presence. According to the stolen Jusenkyo registry his name was "Mu Si." The boy was about his age, with long, flowing white robes and a large pair of glasses on his face.

With a vicious smile, Pantyhose Taro lifted the pail of ice-cold water he was carrying. He intended to make full use of the element of surprise. The fool would never even know what hit him. Gauging the proper trajectory, he drew back his arm for the throw —

—just as, from behind, a hand clamped down hard on his wrist, locking the pail in place. He whirled, to see a pigtailed boy standing there. "Sorry," his assailant quipped. "Not this time."

With a growl, Pantyhose Taro swung his other fist around in a punch, but it too was grabbed before it had a chance to get anywhere close to its target. This time, by a bandanna-wearing boy who had just landed on the other side of him, locking that arm in place as well. At the same time, on the street below, his "unaware" target spun and leapt for the rooftops, a sword shooting out of each of his sleeves into his waiting hands.

Before he could fully process the complete reversal of his ambush, Pantyhose Taro found himself with both arms immobilized, and twin blades crossed at his throat. His mind spun. What was going on here? How had they known he was coming?

"Easy, easy!" the pigtailed one said. "Look, we just want to talk, all right? Trust me, going around beating people up isn't gonna get you what you want."

"How would _you_ know what I want?" Pantyhose Taro snarled back, struggling a little against their grasp. Then he felt cold steel press against his neck, and he relented.

"You'd be surprised what I know," was the pigtailed fighter's reply. "And hey, I'm even willing to help you out! Partly 'cause I feel sorry for you. Mostly because I want you out of our hair, _Pantyhose Taro_."

The _name_. At the sound of that hated name, he bared his teeth. In that moment he didn't care about anything else, didn't care what this smug bastard was offering. He wasn't about to bargain from a position of weakness like this. Not _him_. Using the strength of his fingers for all they were worth, he flicked the pail into the air. Not targeting any of them this time, but rather himself.

Mousse swung up one of his swords to intercept it, knocking it away... but a small bit of the freely spraying water still managed to make it past and splash Pantyhose Taro in the face. It was enough.

His three opponents leapt back as his size increased to gigantic stature, a shaggy coat of fur replacing his skin, wings sprouting from his back, his arms and legs swelling until they were the size of tree trunks. Tentacles emerged from him as well—an inexplicable change to his curse that had appeared a few months ago without warning or explanation... but which he enjoyed all the same. He let out a deafening bellow, allowing his foes to see the full terror of the raw, bestial power that Jusenkyo had seen fit to bestow on him.

These opponents, however, were looking distinctly non-terrified. "All right, all right..." the pigtailed boy sighed, cracking his neck back and forth as the three of them took fighting stances. "The hard way it is, then."

* * *

Almost fifteen minutes later, Ranma, Ryouga and Mousse sat propped up against one of the few walls left standing in the surrounding city block, which had been mostly leveled by the resulting fight. The inhabitants of the houses had all long since fled, leaving the area empty except for them, and for the hulking form of Pantyhose Taro, which was currently lying sprawled out on his back in the middle of the street.

Not that they had escaped unscathed. Ryouga was sporting a truly impressive black eye, and Ranma felt his ribs ache every time he moved. Which was part of the reason he was sitting here, _not_ moving, listening with half an ear to Ryouga talking as he rested.

"...but she wasn't even angry! Can you imagine that? I mean, I'd kept her waiting for two whole _weeks_ trying to find the place, and when I did finally get there she was right in the middle of figuring out a new training regimen for her pigs. But she just stopped right in the middle to go on the date anyway, like we had talked about." Ryouga shook his head in wonderment. "No matter how many times I stood her up, no matter how little I actually got to see her, she was always still waiting for me. Always."

"Yeah, yeah, we know, we know. You've only told us this about a _million_ times already..." Ranma quipped. "So have you made any progress in actually finding her again?"

Ryouga's face fell. "No," he admitted. "I've been looking everywhere I go, but she doesn't stay in any one place for very long. She's always gone by the time I catch up to any rumors I hear." Then he hesitated. "And... I'm not sure I want to find her early, either. I mean, we know she's going to end up here eventually, right? If it happens that way, I can make sure to do everything _exactly_ the way it happened before. But if I start to change things... what if I screw it up somehow?"

The lost boy's worry caused Ranma to throw him a skeptical look. "What's to screw up?" he asked. "You find her giant pig, you beat it up, she throws herself at you. Pretty simple, if you ask me."

"_Everything_ about girls sounds simple when you just _say_ it like that!" snapped Ryouga. "But somehow it always ends up going wrong for me. I can't let it happen like all the other times, Ranma. This time, it _has_ to work like it did before."

"Well, I still think you're worrying over nothing," Ranma said. Then he stood, biting back a grimace as his injuries once again made themselves known. "Hey Mousse, could ya use some of your chains to tie the big jerk up? I'm going to go find some hot water to bring him back down to size."

Mousse nodded and headed over toward the prone behemoth. Ranma turned to leave himself, then paused and glanced back as a thought struck him. "There's one thing that's kinda strange, though. His cursed form. It still had those tentacles. He shouldn't have gotten those until he came back later, for his second try."

"It doesn't seem that strange to me," said Ryouga. "After all, Beneda didn't lose her drowned-girl curse either."

"Well, yeah, but I always figured _that_ was on purpose, since the big spell decided to send her back to our world," said Ranma. "But if it didn't switch Pantyhose Taro back either... then maybe that's not it. Maybe there's something special about Jusenkyo curses."

Ryouga gave him a skeptical look. "You really think Jusenkyo magic could stand up to the kind of power Sailor Moon was throwing around at the end?"

"It's not always just about power, P-chan," countered Ranma. "Sometimes sneaky is just as good. I'm wondering if that big spell even _noticed_ Beneda's curse at all. Maybe when it looked at her back then... all it saw was just a human. Maybe _that's_ why it sent her back with the rest of us, and fit her in as best it could. And maybe that's why it didn't change back what Pantyhose Taro did to his own curse either."

"Perhaps," interjected Mousse. "Or perhaps it was deliberate in both cases. The spell might have decided to let him keep his tentacles because he considered them a benefit. Curses aren't the only things about our bodies that haven't changed. I'm fairly certain I haven't lost any speed or strength from everything going back a year—even though by all rights I should have. My eyes, on the other hand..."

The hidden weapons master took off his glasses and showed them to the other fighters. "These are the same lenses I had when I first came to Nerima," he said. "But in a month or two I'll be needing to get a new prescription. If my eyes were still the same as they were when I went on the Dark Kingdom attack, I wouldn't be able to see hardly anything with these glasses."

The other two mulled that over for a bit, trying to make sense of it all. Eventually, Ranma broke the introspective mood. "Well, however it happened, we gotta take care of this idiot before the old pervert comes by and gets wise to what's going on. I'll go grab that hot water. Then maybe we can get started with the _real_ plan."

* * *

The "real plan" was the end result of Ranma examining what had gone wrong with his previous attempt to get Happousai to change Pantyhose Taro's name. He had ruminated on it carefully, and come up with a completely new plan designed to fix all the problems of his previous attempt. _This_ time—he assured everyone involved—his idea was completely and utterly perfect, with no chance whatsoever of failure.

Predictably, it failed in the most catastrophic manner possible. The result was even more large-scale destruction of property and a Pantyhose Taro who, at the end of the day, was still very much named Pantyhose Taro.

* * *

It was a few weeks later that Kuno called on Akane once again.

He had been largely keeping his distance since he regained his memories of the Dark Kingdom battle. On the occasions they did meet he was polite, but also withdrawn. Or perhaps "withdrawn" was not exactly the right word. He seemed uncomfortable, even unsure of himself, strange though that was to think about someone like him. Either way, their conversations were usually brief, and Akane didn't want to force matters in such a situation.

So it was with a bit of surprise that she found Kuno standing outside the door of the Tendo home, requesting to speak with her. She had obligingly brought him into the family room, where he had lowered himself into a formal _sieza_ sitting position. "I have been... thinking of late," he began. "Reflecting on what I learned at the moment of my temporary passing."

Akane looked away, not meeting his eyes. Finally convincing him of her lack of feelings toward him hadn't been at all what she had intended in response to his saving her life, but it was what had happened nonetheless. Kuno, however, was continuing. "I have been meditating on my actions, as well as consulting with other classmates who may have a clearer view of these matters than I had. And what they have told me has left me even more troubled. Tell me truthfully¸ Tendo Akane... is it actually possible that you disliked the morning challenges as well?"

It took Akane an open-mouthed moment to formulate a proper reply. Those "morning challenges" had been infuriating to her, something she'd told Kuno to his face multiple times. She'd had to fight her way to school every single day, through what felt like half of Furinkan High's male population. The utter disregard that her "admirers" had shown for her wishes, the idea that all those _boys_ had to do was beat her up and she would be theirs... it made her jaw tighten just thinking back on it.

But this was neither the time nor the place for that, and so she swallowed those feelings. "No, Kuno, I didn't enjoy them," she explained patiently. "Challenges are one thing, but I didn't want to fight one every single day, whether I agreed to it or not. And I _definitely_ didn't agree to the stakes you set."

Kuno's face fell. "But... but I thought that if anyone, you would understand! The romance of a warrior's soul! To win your beloved's affection by the valor of your blade! What could be more noble, more exhilarating, more passionate, more—"

"_Kuno._" Akane interrupted his growing passion before he got even more carried away than he already was. He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open, before eventually looking down in dejection. This allowed Akane to continue, in a gentler tone. She searched for the words, trying to phrase it in a way that he might be able to accept. "Kuno, I understand that you feel that way, but... girls today... we don't want to be treated like we're a prize that gets awarded to the strongest warrior. For something like love, it shouldn't _matter_ whether I can beat you up, or you can beat me up, or... anything. That part of life... it's about who you _are_, not how well you can fight."

"But this sword _is_ who I am!" exclaimed Kuno, holding up his bokken in a bombastic, yet still strangely heartfelt gesture. "Do you mean to say that this modern world has no place for one to communicate his truest feelings through the language of honorable combat? That there is no one left who sees the glorious struggle of life and love in such terms? That a love won on the battlefield is not as true and pure as any that can be imagined?"

"But... It's just that..." Akane floundered for words, at a loss for the proper way to get through to him. She didn't want to completely crush his dreams, and yet at the same time she didn't want him to end up alone because he couldn't see things from the viewpoint of someone he might love. "I just... think you should at least try to get a girl to like you personally, _before_ you try to... communicate your feelings through combat. It'll make things a lot easier, I think."

Kuno frowned, no signs of comprehension on his face, and with a sinking heart Akane realized that she probably hadn't gotten through to him. "I will... consider your words carefully, Tendo Akane," he told her, bowing his head. "And... I have not seen her recently, but... should I assume that the pigtailed girl also shares your feelings on these matters?"

"Er..." Akane hesitated. "Well, it's not exactly the same situation there. But... she isn't interested, Kuno. She has... her own issues, but she really, _really_ isn't interested."

"I see." Kuno nodded sadly. "I feared so, though I held out hope that I had not twice deluded myself. But it seems that I will need to settle matters with her as well. Until next we meet, Tendo Akane."

And with that he rose to his feet, bowed, and exited the Tendo home.

* * *

"I just... don't know what's gotten into them. They used to not be able to stand each other! But now Akane's over at the Nekohanten at least once a week. She always comes back beaten to a pulp, but she still keeps going back there no matter what I tell her!"

Ukyo glanced up from the okonomiyaki sizzling on her grill, over to where Ranma sat brooding across from her. "Doesn't seem very mysterious to me, Ranchan," she said. "Akane wants to get stronger. We've been seeing a lot tougher opponents than we used to, and I'm sure she doesn't want a repeat of what happened to her against the youma. And I don't think Shampoo wants that to happen either. Not anymore. Though good luck getting her to actually admit it."

It was funny, in a way. The very idea of Shampoo and Akane training together would have seemed preposterous to Ukyo not long ago, but now she was barely even surprised at it. There were some experiences that changed the people who went through them, experiences that made it impossible to look at things the same way afterward. Apparently, dying back-to-back against an endless army of monsters while the world hung in the balance was one of those experiences.

Ukyo certainly understood that on a personal level. Not that she didn't still fight and bicker with the other girls on a regular basis, of course. Not that she didn't still fully intend to win the struggle for Ranchan's heart! But even so, it didn't—couldn't—change the simple fact that they had all stood together against impossible odds, relying on nothing but each other when it seemed like everything else was lost to darkness.

They had fought together, bled together, killed together, died together. Whatever happened in the future, that was a connection between them that could not be erased.

"Actually," Ukyo continued. "I'm more surprised that _you're_ so set against it. I know Akane is taking some knocks, but—"

"It's not just that." Ranma looked away, not meeting her eyes.

"Then what _is_ it?" asked Ukyo, now curious. "Akane blows off some steam, and gets her skills up a little more in the bargain."

"The problem is that it's not going to be _enough!_" Ranma snapped. "Not to keep her safe, not with the way things have been going ever since Jusendo. But she's going to _think_ it is, and she's going to keep jumping in. I've been trying _so hard_ to get her to just leave things to me... but she's hasn't been listening, and this is only going to make it worse!"

He looked back up at Ukyo, and the okonomiyaki chef saw a haunted look in his eyes. "Saffron, then the youma... she's already had _two_ miracles, Ucchan. How many more do you think she has left?"

Ukyo regarded him for a moment, then let out a small chuckle. "And you _honestly_ think you can stop her from jumping in, whether she trains with Shampoo or not?" The pigtailed fighter had no response to that, only stared down at his hands in silent frustration.

The okonomiyaki chef sighed. "Ranchan... I know we've had some close calls lately, but we all came through them in the end. And even if she's not at your level or my level, Akane was a part of it in her own way. What would have happened to _you_ at Jusendo if Akane hadn't been there to turn off the Kinjakan and stop Saffron's egg threads? I know _I'm_ glad she was there... or I'd have lost you."

After one last flip, she offered Ranma the now-cooked-to-perfection okonomiyaki she had prepared for him. "So don't worry too much, all right? You'll look out for us, like you always do. And we'll look out for you too. I'll even keep an extra eye out for Akane next time, if it'll make you feel better."

Ranma's response was a grateful smile that made Ukyo's heart swell. "Thanks, Ucchan," he told her. "I'll... think about what you said. But thanks."

* * *

Hibiki Ryouga sighed, weary from almost a week straight on the road, as he trudged down the sidewalks of whatever city he happened to be in this time. Kyoto was his best guess. He glanced back and forth around him in yet another fruitless attempt at gaining some kind of insight into his location, or how to reach his destination. To no avail, of course.

His goals, at present, were twofold. Or rather, he had two approaches to the same goal. He was constantly searching for news of a girl traveling from city to city on a giant sumo pig, of course. And barring that, he was trying to stay in the Nerima area as much as he could. Akari would show up there sooner or later; that was the one place he _knew_ she would visit in her own search. If he didn't find her on his own, he couldn't allow himself to miss her when that happened.

In three months and eleven days.

He considered pulling one of his many maps out of the bulky backpack strapped behind him, but decided instead to ask one of the people standing nearby for directions. Again. It took him a little while, but eventually he identified a good person to ask, someone who didn't look too busy or preoccupied. It was some girl with long blonde hair, looking to be a little younger than him, leaning against the wall of a nearby building like she was waiting for someone. Near her feet, a bored-looking white cat was curled up.

Wasting no time, he approached her. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Do you have a moment?"

The girl looked up at him, blinked, and then gave a friendly smile. "Sure," she said easily. "What do you need? I'm just waiting for a friend of mine to show up so we can play some games together." Looking up, Ryouga noticed that indeed, the sign of the building she was in front of proclaimed it to be the "Crown Game Center."

"I'd just like to ask you a couple questions," was Ryouga's grateful response. "First, have you heard anything about any large pigs in the area? Maybe going around attacking random boys?"

"...no..." was the girl's surprised response. "Well, I mean, there have been the Cardian attacks happening recently, but I don't remember there being a _pig_ Cardian. And they usually went after girls more than guys. And there haven't been any of those since... well, since they stopped attacking about a week ago."

Now it was Ryouga's turn to look confused. He'd never heard of "Cardians" before. It sounded like even Kyoto had its own unique problems. "All right. Well in that case, do you happen to know what direction Nerima ward is from here? I'm trying to reach the Tendo dojo."

At that, the girl gave him a quizzical look. "Nerima?" she asked. "Well, it's about five miles northwest of here. Um... if you need a subway route that'll get you there...?"

"No thank you, that's all right," Ryouga said. "I'll just walk. I always spend too much money whenever I try to take the subway anywhere, and I just end up getting lost on _it_ for about the same amount of time anyway." He laughed, his mood lightening. "But I had no _idea_ I was this close! I'm probably not in Kyoto at all, am I? This close, it's probably... Nagoya, right?"

Or maybe not. The girl was giving him a peculiar look now, so that probably wasn't it. But he didn't let it dampen his mood. He had found a kind, helpful person on his first try, which didn't always happen. And now thanks to his new directions, he was set to go! He just had to head ten more miles east. He was practically there already!

"Thank you very much!" he said, bowing, as he walked off toward the south. "I really appreciate it!"

* * *

Aino Minako watched as the strange, homeless-looking boy departed, still not quite sure what to make of his odd behavior. He didn't _seem_ like he was having a joke at her expense... though she couldn't imagine for the life of her how anyone could think the middle of Tokyo was either Kyoto _or_ Nagoya.

She hoped that he found whatever he was looking for, anyway. Somehow, she had the sneaking suspicion that she hadn't actually helped him very much, despite her best efforts. It was too bad, really. He'd actually been kinda cute—if you looked past the dirt and the travel stains and the fact that he didn't seem to have had a bath in quite a while.

"Minako! Minako!"

The incognito Senshi of Venus turned to see Tsukino Usagi running toward her, twin pigtails streaming in her wake, followed closely by Luna. A smile crossed Minako's face at the sight of her energetic princess. "Hey, Usagi," she called out. "Are you ready for some Sailor V action?"

"You bet!" exclaimed Usagi, raising a fist in determination. "Today is the day we beat Ami's high score! I just know it!" Minako laughed, and the two of them entered the arcade, chatting all the way about how they were going to break their losing streak. Soon, all thoughts of the peculiar boy had been displaced from her mind.

Then, a few days later came the arrival of a certain mysterious pink-haired girl, and with her the start of their troubles with Death Phantom and the Black Moon family. And, by the end of _that_ tumultuous period, any memory of that one brief, passing encounter had been forgotten entirely.

* * *

Cologne stood, alone, in the center of the Nekohanten, awaiting the guests that would soon arrive. The old woman had both closed the restaurant and sent Mousse and Shampoo away, telling them not to come back until late that evening. She did not know what the coming confrontation would bring, but it was a confrontation that was unavoidable nonetheless.

She waited in silence, hardly any movement disturbing the—outward—serenity of her bearing. Almost an hour passed with no change. Then, at last, the restaurant door slid open, revealing the long-anticipated visitors.

The two women standing on either side Cologne knew by face, but not by name. Mages, participants in the Dark Kingdom battle. In between the two, her shrunken frame dwarfed by theirs, stood Meihui.

"Welcome," said Cologne quietly. "You honor my establishment by your presence."

Meihui nodded once, then directed a gesture at her two attendants. They proceeded to exit the restaurant and close the doors behind them, leaving the two ancient masters alone. After a few long moments, Cologne spoke again. "I never had the opportunity to express my gratitude for what you did at the portal. All hope would have been lost had you not lent your assistance. Thank you."

A small grunt was Meihui's only reply, and Cologne found herself again wondering just what the other woman's objective here was. She had made nothing known except for the fact that she was coming, and even now her expression was unreadable. But delay or deception in such a matter was entirely unlike Meihui. If she were truly here for a final reckoning, Cologne would have expected her to have issued her challenge long before now.

The dead, after all, would be satisfied in no other way.

With so much pain and uncertainty between them, Cologne took refuge in the banal issues that two clan elders would be expected to discuss. "I trust that matters are well back in China? Soap tells me there has been a bit of unrest recently."

That prompted a dry chuckle from Meihui. "Yes," she said, as she walked over to one of the decorative screens that stood by the kitchen doorway. She studied it, reaching out a finger to trace its designs. "Some of it was expected, of course. Alliances shifting and consolidating based on what the different tribes went through during the battle. The Tian Wu Swordsmen, in particular, have expressed a strong interest in forming a pact with the Musk Dynasty after fighting alongside them. Even the Phoenix People have begun to relax their isolationist stance, if only a bit."

The ancient mage paused for a moment, then continued. "There are other changes, however, that we did not anticipate."

Cologne was willing to bet that she knew what Meihui was referring to. "The Silk Lotus?"

"The Silk Lotus," Meihui agreed. "How much have you heard?"

"Not much." The tribe of Iron Cloth wielders had always been secretive, but after the battle for the Dark Kingdom their secrecy had increased to a paranoid extent. "Soap told me that they're clearly hiding something, but she hasn't figured out what it is yet."

"I have." A grim, satisfied smile flickered across Meihui's face. "I believe that they are trying to conceal the sudden loss of their leader."

The Joketsuzoku elder couldn't help herself; she sucked in a quick breath of astonishment, her memories reaching back to the child-like face that had participated so shrewdly in their war council. "He's dead?" she asked, scarcely daring to believe it. "You mean he wasn't brought back to life with the rest of us?"

"Oh, the _body_ was brought back to life," explained Meihui. "But the _soul_ now controlling it is that of the boy it originally belonged to. The child is once again living with his parents in the village of the Yakusai Poisoners, with eight years of perfectly normal memories."

"And there's no way he could have cheated death again?" asked Cologne. "How many times has one of our clans thought we'd killed him, only to find out later on that he'd used that damnable technique to escape at the last second to a child he'd hidden at the edges of the battlefield?"

"It doesn't seem likely," was Meihui's response. "He couldn't have brought such a child through the portal without one of the other masters noticing. Everyone that was within range of his technique during that battle had a far too developed psyche for it to work. And it seems that the Princess's Wish did not see fit to spare him from facing that which he had sacrificed so many others to keep at bay."

"So he's finally dead..." breathed Cologne. Then she snorted. "I can well imagine that the Silk Lotus are in a panic! He's led them for almost nine hundred years, and he's been their most potent weapon all that time. With him gone, a great many other tribes will be lining up to settle old grudges."

"Indeed." There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Meihui's voice. "Of course, I plan to be careful in how I release this information. It would be best if matters did not degenerate into open warfare, especially considering how closely the Chinese government watches us these days. Still, there is no question that the standing of the Silk Lotus tribe is about to experience... significant change."

"If you desire, the Joketsuzoku can provide a moderating influence to help keep tensions from boiling over," said Cologne, an eager light appearing in her eyes as she began to think ahead. "While nobody is exactly on _good_ terms with the Silk Lotus, they never clashed with us as badly as the tribes living directly on their borders. And if we play to the camaraderie of the recent battle as well, then—"

Cologne opened her mouth to say more... but then she stopped, suddenly and painfully aware of what was happening. This kind of scheming, tossing political machinations back and forth between each other... it was exactly what the two of them had used to do all the time almost a century ago. Back when they had been young and full of idealism, confident that the two of them could accomplish impossible things together, could bring about a new era between their tribes and their region at large. Almost without realizing it, Cologne had fallen back into it again. As though they were only twenty-two again. As though nothing had happened between them.

But it _had_ happened. It had, and it wasn't something that could be just ignored like this. "Meihui—" Colonge began.

"For the past eighty-seven years there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to see you die." The quiet interruption cut off anything Cologne might have said, returning the room to silence again. Meihui was still studying the screen intently as she spoke, not having looked at Cologne during the entire conversation. "Then... five months ago at the Dark Kingdom portal... I saw _exactly that_."

"And I have spent these last five months coming to grips with what a fool I have been all this time."

"Fool? Meihui, you had every right to want revenge!" protested Cologne, anguish in her voice. "If I had only handled the knowledge you gave me better... If I had only stopped and _thought_ about what the consequences would be...!"

A tired smile flitted around Meihui's lips. "Or if _I_ had found a better way than putting you in such a position of conflicted loyalty. Or if our elders hadn't been willing to engage in base treachery to advance themselves. Or if your council had been more merciful on their part. If. If. If. You can drive yourself mad like that, trying to find someone to blame. I know."

The ancient mage looked down at her tiny, withered hands. "It's easier to see now, as old as I am," she continued. "Back when Lihua first died, it was her loss that consumed my mind. But now, after my own brush with death, my thoughts dwell less on her absence, and more on how little time remains until I _will_ see her once again. What I will say to her when I do... and what view she will take of how I have spent these past eighty-seven years."

Cologne said nothing, allowing Meihui to speak. "So much time I've wasted," the ancient mage whispered. "So many _chances_ I've thrown away in my anger and grief. But... no matter what mistakes I have made... and no matter what mistakes you have made... I know that the woman who I watched give her life for the sake of the world is not a woman Lihua would have hated. And... she is not a woman I wish to hate anymore either."

By now Meihui's voice was almost breaking. She turned away from the screen, looking directly at her old friend. "Cologne," she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Please forgive—"

The Joketsuzoku elder covered the distance between them in less than the blink of an eye, grabbing Meihui and clutching her in a tight embrace. The two tiny old women remained there, no further words passing between them as they clung tightly to each other.

* * *

Later in the evening, Shampoo returned to the Nekohanten, to find Cologne seated in one of the chairs, clearly lost in thought. The young girl breathed an almost-undetectable sigh of relief. Not that she had _really_ thought that the meeting between the mage elder and her great-grandmother would end in violence, or that her great-grandmother would lose if it had... but still, it was good to see with her own eyes.

Cologne glanced up as her great-granddaughter approached, breaking out of her distraction. "Ah, Shampoo," she said. "You're back a bit earlier than I expected."

"Shampoo forget. Today is day Akane coming here for more beating on. Shampoo need get back here before time we set, to prepare."

"Mmmm..." Her great-grandmother's reply gave little indication of her thoughts on the matter, or what she had been pondering so intently. Shampoo waited, watching, but when nothing else seemed forthcoming she turned away and began moving chairs and tables around, setting up a space for her imminent duel.

"Great-grandmother learn any news from mage elder?" the Joketsuzoku girl asked as she busied herself, more to make conversation than anything else.

"Yes, quite a bit," responded Cologne. "Events back home are shifting to a much greater extent than I had realized."

"Really?" Shampoo's eyebrows went up in mild surprise. "What tribe going to do?"

"That is, indeed, the question..." Cologne said. There was silence for another few seconds, before the old woman spoke again. "I will be leaving within the week. To return to China."

Shampoo froze in the middle of moving a chair. "Great-grandmother leaving?" she asked. "For how long?"

"Indefinitely," was Cologne's plain answer. "Meihui and I will be working together with each of our villages to guide the events that are about to transpire."

"Shampoo see." The girl's response was quiet. She set the chair down, the wooden _thunk_ echoing in a silence that suddenly seemed far more stifling than before. "Shampoo... wish she could help great-grandmother in too, too important time for tribe."

"You have your duties here, child," Cologne replied. "You will be allowed to return to the village when you fulfill them. In the meantime, I will arrange for you to take over the running of the Nekohanten. The ownership will still be technically under my name, but you will have control over all the day-to-day operations."

The young girl nodded once in understanding, accepting Cologne's decision with the stoicism that was expected of a Joketsuzoku warrior. "Shampoo will keep restaurant running good. And win love of Ranma. Great-grandmother no worry."

"Good." Drawing in a deep breath, Cologne turned to head upstairs. "Now I must see to my preparations. There is much yet to be done before I can leave."

With that, the elder made her way over toward the stairs. She had made it about halfway there when she was stopped by Shampoo's voice. "Great-grandmother..."

Cologne glanced back over her shoulder. "Yes, Shampoo?"

"Is there... any last thing great-grandmother can teach Shampoo before leave?" asked the girl hesitantly. "Something so plans Shampoo make for Ranma work better than all other times?"

For a moment Cologne simply regarded her. Then the old woman smiled. "You're already making great strides in something far more important than any technique or scheme I could teach you, child," she told her great-granddaughter, her raspy voice taking on a rare warmth. "You're growing up into a woman that son-in-law would be a fool to ignore."

"And if Ranma ignore anyway?" whispered Shampoo, her voice barely audible.

Cologne looked away. "Then..." she eventually said. "...we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

Was it worse, Mousse wondered, to hear bad news without warning, sprung on you suddenly? Or was it worse when you knew it was coming, when you had been waiting for months to hear it? When you could practically recite it along with the person giving it to you?

The optometrist, a short, balding, slightly rotund man, looked up from his papers and met Mousse's eyes for a moment, but then quickly looked back down again. "Er... We... have your new prescription ready, as we discussed," he said, fidgeting with his pen as he spoke. "However... there is an important matter that you need to be aware of."

He was clearly nervous about delivering this news to the robed young man seated in his office. Probably he realized that Mousse was one of the area's infamous martial artists. Did he think that Mousse might attack him for what he was about to say? The hidden weapons master resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hadn't done so the first time he'd had this conversation, and he had no intention of doing so now.

"The tests... you see... they showed..." The older man was floundering now, prompting no small amount of annoyance in Mousse. _It's not that hard to say!_ the young man thought, irate. _Your tests showed that my vision is worsening even faster than you expected._

As Mousse listened in silence, the optometrist eventually got around to conveying exactly that. Not so concisely, and sprinkled with terms like "degenerative myopia" and "posterior staphyloma", but the essential meaning was there. At length Mousse interrupted in an attempt to move things along. "Doctor..." he said. "I believe that I understand. How much time would you estimate that I have left? Before glasses become ineffectual?"

That set off another round of hedging, but Mousse tuned it out. The doctor was only working himself up to saying what the hidden weapons master already knew: that he had a year—at most—of sight remaining.

_Just give me the new prescription and let me go..._ Mousse thought, tiredly. _If I have only a year left in which I can look on Shampoo's beauty, I don't want to waste any part of it sitting here..._

* * *

Running one hand absent-mindedly through her hair, the currently-female Ranma glanced around at the schoolyard, wondering why she had agreed to go through with this. The last time—so long ago, it seemed—that she had answered this summons the result hadn't exactly been one of her favorite memories. And yet here she was. Again.

She looked down at the note she held in one hand, reading the familiar words written there: "On Sunday, in the tenth hour, meet me in the second field of Furinkan High School." She really wasn't in the mood to have another bouquet chucked at her, but Akane had been insistent that this might be important for Kuno. And sure, the guy _had_ been a lot more low-key lately, ever since his death and eventual remembrance of it. Still, it was with no small reluctance that Ranma had agreed to answer the summons.

At ten o'clock on the dot Ranma caught sight of Kuno descending one of the short sets of stairs that led down the side of the hill to the field proper. He was wearing his usual kendo uniform, with his bokken slung across his back in its carrying bag. Soon they were facing each other, standing a few meters apart.

"So what's up?" Ranma asked. "This isn't all to offer me another chance to date you, is it?"

"No." Reaching behind his back, the young man drew his bokken and held it at the ready in front of himself. "Pigtailed girl... I wish to humbly request a match with you."

Ranma's eyebrows went up a little. "Really? What kind of stakes are we talking about?" she asked, remembering their previous such encounters.

"No stakes," was Kuno's reply. "Just a match. I wish to face you once again."

For a moment Ranma hesitated, searching for the other shoe that experience told her would be dropping any second now. But after a second or two she just shrugged. "Sure, fine by me. Let's go."

"Thank you." Kuno assumed a kendo stance, his sword aimed directly at his opponent, and began to carefully advance, step by sliding step. Ranma, for her part, just stood there, pondering how best to handle this. She didn't want to insult him by going _too_ easy, but at the same time it wouldn't do to just stomp him in a move or two either. In the end she decided to just play it on the defensive side, and wait for the right moment.

Kuno surged forward with a sudden charge, putting all his speed into a single downward swing toward the top of Ranma's head. The girl hopped back, allowing the tip of the bokken to slice past less than a centimeter from her nose. Kuno tried to shift into a thrust at Ranma's solar plexus, but she twisted to one side, allowing him to go past and using the same motion to spin her elbow into the side of his head.

The young kendoist staggered away, but managed to catch his balance and counterattack faster than Ranma had been expecting. _He's gotten better!_ Ranma thought, as she ducked under a slash and drove her fist into his gut, doubling him over. It didn't put him down, though, since he managed to shift the point of impact slightly, making it not a clean hit.

_Yeah, he's been in some serious training for this fight,_ Ranma realized, as she watched him stumble backward, swinging his sword in a desperate defensive pattern. It was impressive, really. Not that she couldn't take him down easy if she _really_ got serious, of course... but even so, an improvement like this, especially in such a short time, was nothing to sneeze at.

By then Kuno had steadied himself and regained his stance, his breathing ragged but his sword still steady. Ranma met his eyes, then stepped back into a modified Tai Chi stance she had picked up in China, her open hands moving in intricate circular patterns as they slid into place. There she held, waiting.

Kuno shot forward on the attack once again, his sword ripping through the air in a furious rain of strikes. Ranma ducked, leaned and weaved around them as she backpedaled, flowing like water around his every attack. They soon crossed the whole width of the field, their movements blurring with speed as they dueled.

Then, as they reached the far side of the field, Ranma made her move. Kuno attacked with a swing, but Ranma slipped inside his guard and caught him in a shoulder throw.

She flung him through the air like a rag doll and then, when he was directly above her, lashed straight up with a split-kick right into Kuno's chest, blasting him even higher. Eventually he fell, right onto a flurry of Amaguriken punches that kept him aloft as they battered him. Finally, Ranma let him fall, dropping him into a heap on the ground.

For a while he just lay there, and eventually Ranma began to worry that she hadn't held back quite enough on that last salvo. But then she heard a groan emerge from him, and he flopped over onto his back. "Magnificent..." he croaked out at length. "Even more amazing than I remembered..."

Ranma shrugged. "Yeah, well..." she said. "You weren't so bad yourself. Not that I'm gonna start falling for you over that or anything."

"I... know," was Kuno's response, as he stared up at the sky from his spread-eagled position. "It has... been made clear to me that I have been misguided in my pursuit of you and Tendo Akane. That, in truth, was the reason behind this duel." He took a deep breath. "This will be the last time I pursue you, pigtailed girl. With this, I am... satisfied. Please forgive any trouble my archaic methods have caused you. They are the only way I know."

At that, Ranma's jaw dropped. "...seriously?" she asked, stunned. "I... well... that's _great!_ Er, I mean... but don't let it get you down or anything, though. Just 'cause I'm not into you doesn't mean there isn't _any_ hope. You just... gotta find the right girl is all."

A small chuckle escaped Kuno's mouth. "I thank you for your concern, pigtailed girl..." he said, his voice filled with resignation, and a quiet, aching loneliness that Ranma realized might have been there all along. "...but I find myself doubting that, now."

"Look, you're just feeling a little down from getting your ass kicked," Ranma insisted. "You'll get over it, trust me. Heck, I'll even give you some pointers, help you brush up on your techniques for dealing with this kind of thing!"

Kuno lifted his head off the ground to look at her. "Truly? You would do this for me?"

"Sure!" was Ranma's confident response. After all, she didn't _hate_ the idiot. And if a few tips steered him even more conclusively out of his and Akane's hair, so much the better. "Who better than me? After all, I _am_ just about the biggest girl-magnet around these parts!"

"I... see..." Kuno's eyes bulged a little at the pronouncement, and Ranma realized she hadn't quite been thinking about her current form when she'd told him that. "I... believe that I now understand what Tendo Akane meant by your lack of interest..."

Ranma opened her mouth to reply, hesitated, and then finally just decided to leave it be. It was close enough to the truth, after all. "...anyway, just trust me, I know what I'm talking about. Follow my advice, and I _guarantee_ you'll see some results. Now, the first and most important thing when dealing with a girl... is... to..."

Her voice trailed off as she stared past Kuno, at the large, distant form trundling away from Furinkan. She only caught a brief half-glimpse of it before it disappeared around a corner, but it had looked almost like...

_"Crap!"_ Breaking into a run, Ranma raced toward the main school building. Behind her, Kuno shouted out a worried question about what was wrong, but Ranma didn't have time to reply. She bounded up the school's face to a vantage point where she could survey the surroundings. And there they were, walking side by side. A huge, hulking sumo pig and a small schoolgirl.

Ranma's mind raced. Was Ryouga still around? The lost boy had been staying at the dojo for the past few days, but with him who knew how long that would last. There was no time to lose!

Jumping back down off the roof, Ranma took off in a blur of speed toward the Tendo house, running as fast as she could.

* * *

Several minutes later, panting for breath, Ranma arrived back at the place that had become her home... just in time to see Ryouga meandering away from the house and about to turn a corner out of sight. Swearing under her breath, the Saotome heir shot toward her rival like a bullet, slamming into him and grabbing hold. "Oh no you don't!" she muttered.

"Wha-? Ranma?" asked Ryouga, startled. "What's the matter? I was just going to grab a drink of water from the kitchen; there's no call to—"

_"She's here!"_ Ranma interrupted. "Akari's here, Ryouga! I just saw her and Katsunishiki over by the school!"

Ryouga's face went pale. "H- h- here? B- but she's not supposed to be here yet! This isn't _nearly_ the right time! What happened?"

"I don't know!" was Ranma's response. "Maybe we changed something, somehow. Or... or maybe she came to Nerima twice all along, but we just never met her the first time. The point is, she's here! _Now!_"

The lost boy looked like he was about to have a panic attack, but he somehow forced himself to function regardless. "O- okay!" he said. "I have to find her! Right away!" With that, he spun and took off running in the exact opposite direction of Furinkan.

"You just never _learn_, do you?" Ranma muttered, as she grabbed the directionally-challenged boy by the collar and began dragging him toward his actual destination.

* * *

It took all his willpower, but Ryouga managed to resist the urge to pace nervously as he waited in the middle of the sidewalk where Ranma had put him. He didn't dare move one step from this spot. Who knew where he would end up if he started? And he couldn't get lost, not now! He _couldn't!_

He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling the sweat building in his palms. Where was Ranma? It felt like hours, days since she had left. He wanted—_needed_—to go and check for himself, but he knew how impossible that would be.

Then, at last, he saw Ranma vault one of the nearby buildings and run up to him. "Get ready!" his rival whispered. "She's almost here!"

Ryouga licked his lips, trying to quiet his hammering heart. He unconsciously reached up with his hand toward the hilt of his umbrella, then froze as he realized that he'd left it, along with his pack, at the Tendo dojo. "Ranma! I don't have my umbrella with me!"

Ranma shot him a quick glance. "So?"

"So when I beat Katsunishiki the first time, I used my umbrella to do it! It won't be the same!"

His rival rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Ryouga, just _calm down_ you moron! It doesn't have to match exactly! Just beat the stupid pig and get it over with. Look, there they are!"

Ryouga tried—and failed—to be inconspicuous as he turned, watching out of the corner of his eye as two figures, one small, one hulking, conferred several blocks away. _It's her! It's her! It's really her!_ His breath caught in his throat. He had not realized until this moment the full extent of how badly he had missed her all these months.

She was peeking around a corner, watching him carefully. After a few moments of appraisal, she gave her porcine companion a nod and a slap, and with that the pig was barreling down the street toward Ryogua.

Now the lost boy turned to face the animal directly as it thundered at him. A simple uppercut would be best, he decided. Win with one impressive shot, just like he had done before. He clenched his fists as the pig came closer and closer. There was little more than a block between them now, and Ryouga gathered his strength for the strike—

—just as, gasping for breath as he ran headlong out of a side alley, Kuno appeared halfway between them, his eyes homing in on Ranma. "Pigtailed girl!" he called out. "At last I've caught up with—"

_"Kuno!"_ shouted both Ranma and Ryouga, horrified. Kuno, for his part, only detected the oncoming pig a second before the animal slammed into him from behind. Still, he managed to brace himself in the nick of time, his heels carving furrows in the concrete as he absorbed the full force of the charge.

The sight snapped Ryouga out of his shock, and he ran down the street toward the sudden conflict. But Kuno was already there. With a loud battle cry he spun, grabbing his bokken and slamming it directly into the sumo pig's flank. Katsunishiki reeled unsteadily away, opening itself to the full force of Kuno's attacks. "_Strike!_ Strike strike strike strike strike strike _strike!_"

Blasts of air pressure pummeled the huge animal, the final one catching it right between the eyes. It crumpled to the ground, unconscious, just as Ryouga reached Kuno. The kendoist, for his part, turned to Ranma. "Hmmm... was this brutish creature the cause of your distress back at Furinkan field?" he asked. "If so, it was my pleasure to assist you in any way I could."

Ranma made no reply. Nor did Ryouga, who could only stare numbly down at the defeated pig. His thoughts weren't working right. He tried to process what had just happened, but all he got was empty static.

"E- excuse me?"

All three of them turned as one at the words, and Ryouga's heart lurched. There she was. The subject of all his months of waiting and hoping, exactly as he remembered. Her modest sweater and skirt, her long hair and her beautiful, adoring smile. "Y- you... are the winner..." she said as she walked toward them, a demure blush on her cheeks. Then, as she reached them, she exclaimed "Please! Read this!" as she thrust out a small envelope toward Kuno.

Ryouga's heart imploded. He could only watch, unable to form words, as Kuno took the envelope with a puzzled frown. Akari immediately spun away, fleeing over toward where her now-recovered pig sat. It was that sight that finally shook Ryouga from his stupor. "Wait, _Akari!_"

The girl paused in mid-run, turning to look at him. "Yes?" she said, sounding puzzled. "How do you know my name?"

"I... you don't..." The lost boy wracked his brain for the words that could somehow salvage this. He started to walk closer to her, as he begged her with every fiber of his being. "Akari... _please_ try to remember! You... you were in love with _me!_ We went on dates together. All kinds of dates! You took me to the amusement park—that was when I broke their strength-test machine trying to win you that pig stuffed toy! And then we met at that lake, in the Futoraku Highlands by the elephant statue! And I tried twice to take you to the movies... and even though I got us lost both times, you never even complained about it!"

He was nearly in tears now. "And once I walked home with you after Katsunishiki had a sumo pig match, and you let me hold your hand, and even if it was mostly because you were guiding me, I was still really, really happy! And every time I found my way to your farm, there was that special noodle dish that you made just for me! And then there was—"

But his desperate pleas were having the exact opposite of their intended effect. Faced with a crazy man fervently claiming a long history with her that she had no memory of whatsoever, Akari was backing away from his advance in increasing fear. Then suddenly Kuno was there, holding his bokken as a barrier between the two of them. _"Enough!"_ he snapped. "You are frightening her!"

Kuno's words brought Ryouga back to his senses, and he flinched back as though struck. "I... No, no, I didn't mean...!" But his stammering words fell on deaf ears, as Akari continued to shrink away.

"Young lady," said Kuno, without taking his eyes off Ryouga. "I believe it would be for the best if you left now. I shall read your letter at some more fitting time, and we can all discuss these matters once the circumstances are more settled... and our passions have cooled." The last part was directed with pointed emphasis at the lost boy.

Akari nodded in obedience, while giving Kuno an adoring look. "I understand," she told him. "I promise, I'll find you soon!" Then with that, she turned and ran back to where Katsunishiki sat, jumped onto him, and galloped off as fast as she could. Kuno waited until she was gone, then walked away as well, with one final, dark look directed at Ryouga. In the end, the lost boy and Ranma were left standing alone in the empty street.

"What did I just do?" Ryouga whispered at last. "I... I was _scaring_ her. _Kuno_ had to protect her from me! All the times I imagined and planned and practiced what I was going to do when I saw her again... How could it go so _wrong?_"

"...look man, it's not hopeless yet," Ranma said, attempting to bolster Ryouga's spirits. "Okay, so he beat up the pig. You can still beat it up too! That might still put you in the running!"

It wouldn't, Ryouga knew. He understood better than anyone the sheer depth of unswerving devotion that Akari had immediately focused on him upon his victory. She wouldn't be looking for additional suitors. He continued to stare straight ahead, his fists clenched so tight that his fingernails were drawing blood even from his toughened flesh, as loss and anger ate away at him from the inside out.

* * *

Ranma watched Ryouga worriedly, trying as best she could to think of a way to fix the situation. Nothing was coming to mind. Her rival looked more messed up than she had ever seen him before. The promise of the girl he loved, the girl he had been waiting so long for... completely pulled out from under him in an instant. "Listen, man..." she said at last. "Why don't you just come back to the dojo with me for a bit, until you're thinking straight again? And if you give me a little while, I'm sure I can come up with a plan for what you can do!"

Ryouga gave no acknowledgement of the Saotome heir's words. Ranma waited for a few moments, then tried again, reaching out her hand toward her rival's shoulder. "Hey, Ryouga—"

_"Don't!"_ snarled the lost boy, whirling to slap away her hand before it reached him. "Don't even start, Ranma! I'm _sick_ of your stupid plans, and I'm sick of your stupid games, and I'm sick of how everything always goes wrong when you're involved!" He began to advance on the other martial artist, something dangerous and unstable smoldering in his eyes. "Kuno... Kuno said he was trying to find _you_, because of something you did at Furinkan! _You_ were the one who led him here! This is... this is all _your fault!_"

"Ryouga, wait—" But Ryouga was in no state of mind to listen to his rival. With a scream that was half-roar and half-sob, he burst into furious motion, lunging at Ranma with a wild swing that the pigtailed fighter barely avoided. She shot backward in a series of quick hops and dodges, with the lost boy following relentlessly in step, attacking at every opportunity.

Finally, Ranma jumped clear over one of Ryouga's punches, planting a hand atop her opponent's head and flipping over him. Then, twisting in midair, she dug her fingers into Ryouga's hair and wrenched himself at the lost boy from behind, kicking both her feet into the back of Ryouga's head with all her strength. His rival stumbled forward, off-balance, as Ranma landed in a fighting stance.

Ryouga wasted no time in righting himself and charging after Ranma again with a feral snarl. His punches had no strategy or technique to them; he was simply lashing out at his rival with blind, animal fury. Ranma weaved back and forth around his hugely telegraphed strikes, retaliating with surgical blows of her own. But no matter how hard or how repeatedly she pounded on him, it was like he wasn't even feeling the hits.

Panting for breath, Ranma met Ryouga's latest charge with a side kick straight into his gut, using the lost boy's own momentum to help spear him. But that time, she was a half-instant too slow in retracting her leg. Ryouga managed to grab her by the ankle and swing her bodily over his head, then slam her back down to the ground with enough force to put a crater in the street.

Ranma screamed in pain, but Ryouga was already coming at her again, aiming a kick at her prone form. She rolled with the attack, diminishing some of its force, and managed to catch the kick on a crossed-arm block. She angled the impact against her arms to send her flying back through the air, and with an acrobatic twist she regained her footing, backpedaling furiously.

Roaring out an inarticulate battle cry, Ryouga kept up the chase. He swung and swung and swung, until Ranma was able to redirect one of his punches and then twist it into an armlock, using the leverage to force the lost boy to the ground. Ryouga thrashed and struggled, but from the position Ranma had his joints in he couldn't force his way free. "Just calm down!" shouted the pigtailed fighter.

But Ryouga only fought harder, his struggles growing more and more desperate as he tried with all his might to get at his rival. Ranma gritted her teeth, keeping up the pressure. Ryouga pulled and twisted and strained... until, with a final wrench, the sound of a loud _snap_ came from his arm, and suddenly he was once again in a position to attack Ranma.

Ranma tried to react to the unexpected change, but it was too late, and she was in too close. Ryouga's other fist swung around and crashed into Ranma's face, causing white spots to explode across her vision as her head snapped around and she stumbled away. He followed that by plowing a kick straight into her chest, sending her flying back into a nearby telephone pole, which shattered and toppled from the impact.

The pigtailed fighter wheezed for breath, clutching her side in pain while she tried to stop the world from spinning in circles around her. Ryouga, for his part, was lurching toward her again, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side.

Raising her hands in a shaky defensive guard, Ranma began to circle Ryouga, trying to keep her distance as she thought. The lost boy was in complete berserker mode now, ignoring the pain even from his broken arm. If she was going to have any hope of taking him down, she would have to take him down _hard_. It was either that... or else the one other option she could think of. The one other chance of snapping him out of it.

Ryouga put on an extra burst of speed, careening toward her with a yell that might have been her name. Ranma met his gaze as he charged, took a deep breath... and then lowered her guard.

The first punch slammed into her jaw, filling her mouth with the coppery taste of blood. The second punch hit her in the stomach, doubling her over. The third punch was an uppercut that sent her flying away to land flat on her back, skidding along the street.

By the time her vision stabilized, Ryouga was straddling her, fist upraised. Ranma didn't say anything, just kept looking him quietly in the eyes. Ryouga raised his arm higher, then with a scream swung it down in a vicious blow...

...that, at the last instant, he twisted away to slam into the street next to Ranma's head.

The two of them remained like that for several seconds. Then Ryouga rolled away, sitting there on the ground next to Ranma as he buried his head into his knees. Right before Ranma's eyes, the anger he had been using to sustain himself bled away like air escaping from a pricked balloon, and what little was left of the lost boy seemed to just crumble in on itself.

Slowly, Ranma managed to raise her head a little off the ground. "Listen, man..." she said at last. "I'm sorry things went the way they did. I didn't mean to bring Kuno here. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Believe me."

At that, Ryouga lifted his head a little. "I... know," he mumbled, using his unbroken arm to wipe across his eyes. "Damn it. I know."

* * *

Shell-shocked, Ryouga could only sit there, the wracking pain from his arm becoming more and more agonizing as the adrenaline faded. More painful yet was the realization of just how stupid the fight had been that had caused it. He knew it wasn't really Ranma who deserved the blame. Probably, he had known it the entire time.

Probably, he had known it ever since that first damn piece of curry bread.

And yet, when everything had come crashing down around him, he had gone right back to that same old crutch—as though nothing at all had changed between the two of them since that first day of their meeting. He had come within a hair's breadth of beating Ranma's face in, even with his rival _refusing to fight back_. He felt sick and disgusted at the realization of what he had done, on top of all the other emotions of losing Akari. It all settled into a single mass of black despair in the center of his soul.

"Hey. Ryouga." Ranma's voice. "Look... About what I said earlier... We don't have to do a plan to get Akari back or anything if you don't want to... but you still oughta come back with me. It'd do you good, and you really need to get that arm looked at."

The words stabbed at Ryouga, striking at his shame like salt on a raw wound. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of it. In that moment, all he wanted was to escape, to be alone with his guilt and failure.

He staggered to his feet, still clutching his arm, and began stumbling forward, putting one foot in front of another with no purpose or direction other than to get away from that place. "I'm sorry," he rasped out as he went. "I can't... I need to... I'm... sorry."

"Hey, wait!" Ranma shouted from behind him, pulling herself up with great effort to a sitting position. "Ryouga, where are you going?"

In spite of everything that had happened, Ryouga managed a single, bitter bark of laughter at the utter absurdity of the question Ranma had asked him. "I don't know..." he answered.

And more than ever before in his life, it was the truth.

"I don't know."

* * *

"Hmmm, now I wonder where Ranma could be?"

Akane glanced up at Kasumi's question, then looked around. It was true; Ranma was nowhere to be seen. And it was getting close to time for dinner, an event that the voracious martial artist almost never missed.

Unless it was her cooking it. Jerk.

"I'll go look for him," Akane offered. Not that she _really_ thought anything was wrong, of course. It was most likely nothing, just Ranma losing track of time. Still, with all the added problems that had been coming their way lately it wasn't something she could just rule out either. And, truth be told, she'd had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach all afternoon.

Checking the guest room he stayed in revealed nothing, nor did searching the dojo or the yard outside. That left one place in the immediate vicinity that she knew him to frequent, and it was there that she found him.

Her fiancé lay with his back flat against the slope of the roof, staring up at the sky as the setting sun stained the clouds with streaks of red and gold. He didn't visibly react as she alighted on the rooftop herself, though she knew he was aware of her. His face was heavily bruised, he had a bandage over his nose, and his expression was pensive.

"Ranma! What happened?" Akane asked, concerned at the state he was in. "Did a new enemy attack?"

The pigtailed fighter shook his head. "No. Wish it was that simple," he said. "Akari showed up today. Ahead of schedule. I tried to meet her up with Ryouga again, but... it all went to hell. Then Ryouga kind of lost it, and we ended up fighting it out until I managed to calm him down."

Akane's eyes widened in shock at the news. "Oh no..." she murmured. "Where is he now?"

Ranma made a vague gesture. "Out there, somewhere. He wanted to be alone, I guess. And there wasn't much I could do to stop the moron." He sighed. "Damn it all. I really thought it was going to work out for him. Seeing it just... fall apart out of nowhere like that..." He shook his head, dejection showing on his face.

Slowly, hesitantly, Akane walked over and sat down next to Ranma. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"No." There was silence for a long moment, and then Ranma corrected himself. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, there is. I just..."

He turned around to look her in the eye. "I... know it can be rough sometimes, the way things are. I know we don't always see eye to eye on everything. I know I can drag my feet on stuff, like this whole fiancée mess. And I know I haven't been listening to you very well on... whatever it is you've got going with Shampoo. But..."

The pigtailed warrior took a deep breath. "But whatever happens... or however long it takes to get everything sorted out... I don't want it to end between us like it did for Ryouga and Akari. You understand what I mean?"

Akane nodded. "Yes. I... do understand."

The two of them sat together in uncomfortable embarrassment, not saying anything further. After what seemed like forever, Akane slowly allowed her hand to creep out, holding it open on the rooftop between the two of them.

She didn't look down at it, but after a few moments she felt Ranma's hand on top of hers, taking hold. Their fingers interlinked tightly, holding onto each other as they sat there in silence, watching the bloody sunset as day fell inexorably toward night.

**~ end interlude ~**


End file.
